


Fortunate Son

by athaclena



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A+ Parenting, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional neglect, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Food Porn, M/M, Multi, Pregnancy, Soulless!Sam, Various SPN cameo characters, Weddings, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-07 06:25:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 40,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7703923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athaclena/pseuds/athaclena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Castiel announce their engagement at a family meal only to find out that none of the Winchesters knew they had been dating for the past five years. A story of family ties, marriages and relationships, and delicious food, told over a series of meals.</p><p>"Family don't end in blood. Sometimes, it don't start there either."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. July

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by a whole bunch of things, but mainly there was a Tumblr post (I think there is always a Tumblr post somewhere), what if your OTP told their family they were engaged and they said "shouldn't you try dating first" and your OTP had been together for five years. I saw a couple of people write their takes on it; this is mine.
> 
> This story depicts neglectful familial relationships, and parents playing favourites. It paints a pretty stark picture of the emotional consequences of that in places. If this is likely to distress you, proceed with caution.
> 
> Thanks to [wobblyheadeddollcaper](http://archiveofourown.org/users/wobblyheadeddollcaper) for cheerleading and beta'ing. This is still a WIP but I'm three chapters in right now; I anticipate posting every Sunday.

The table was stunned into silence at Dean's announcement. Mary broke it after a moment. “Don't you think you should try dating for a while before you get married? I mean, I know you live together, but relationships are very different from friendships...” she trailed off awkwardly at the end.

Castiel shared a look with Dean, confused. “But we've been dating for five years, Mom. It's not like it's too soon or anything. Hell, we've been together for longer than Sam and Jess had been when they got engaged.” Jess grinned at them, her eyes sparkling.

“Hah! I knew it!” She gave a small fist pump. “And congratulations you guys, that's wonderful news!” she added hastily.

“Five years? Really?” Sam said. Dean's hand tightened on Castiel's under the table.

“Why haven't we heard about this sooner, son?” John asked.

Dean was silent, so Castiel stepped in. “We thought you knew. We haven't been keeping it secret. Discrete, sometimes, I suppose, but that's just because, well, Kansas is a red state, there are a lot of homophobes out there who are happy to get violent when they feel their heteronormativity is being challenged.”

“Yeah, I mean I – I literally asked you for proposing tips a few weeks ago, Dad. And Mom, when we were fighting year before last about never seeing each other, you were the one who gave me the advice about having date nights and not taking each other for granted. How- how could you have missed that it was about Cas?” Dean's grip on Castiel's hand was less “romantic gesture of support” and more “drowning man clinging to life preserver” now, and the tension radiating from him was palpable.

To Castiel, anyway. He doubted anyone else was seeing it.

John started to mumble something about thinking he'd maybe found a girlfriend, and Mary was talking about how she'd thought it was just a problem between flatmates, when Sam's voice cut over the top of them angrily. “Why didn't you tell me, Dean? You never said anything about being with Cas!”

Dean visibly controlled his own anger at the accusation, but his hurt bled through into his voice. “I did, man. I musta left a dozen voicemails when I was getting up the nerve to ask him out, while you were doing all those extra classes and you didn't have the time to speak. And, uh, when we moved in together we spent an hour on the phone talking about it, remember? I was all nervous and you told me it was the next stage in my life, and I should man up and dive in? And I did, man, it was great advice.”

Sam floundered. “Oh, I uh, I must have uh... I thought you were just scared of moving out of home. Well, sorry, I guess.”

“Well, we all know now, and we're all very happy to hear it, right boys?” Mary said brightly. “So congratulations Dean and Castiel!” Only Jess toasted with any enthusiasm, but the excruciating conversation was over, at least.

It was fortunate Castiel had no appetite left for dessert, because Dean didn't let go of his hand until they got into the car to drive home. Once upon a time he would have hit the bottle hard after a night like this; now, he just spent the rest of the night curled around Castiel, who stroked his hair and neck until he fell into sleep. It would take Dean some time to process this, Castiel knew, and he didn't want to make him feel rushed or pressured into anything. He could wait. He would always wait.

 

His patience was rewarded a week later in the café they frequented near campus. Too expensive for most of the students, it did brisk trade with the university staff . He and Dean had been meeting there for years now.

“I'm still angry with them,” Dean announced mid-sandwich, as if he was continuing a conversation they'd been having. Castiel suspected he was, in fact, continuing a conversation, but one in which all of Castiel's parts had been filled in already by Dean in the privacy of his own head.

“I am too. They should have been paying far closer attention to your life,” Castiel replied firmly. Years of practise, and a thorough and intimate knowledge of his fiancé's mind, meant that he was not thrown by this non sequitur.

Dean dismissed that out of hand, as he always did. “Naw, they were busy, or whatever. You know what it's like, you don't always ask people things after they've told you once. You remember Post-Grad What's-her-name? It was probably just like that.” He took another giant mouthful of pastrami and continued, slightly indistinctly, “'M angry tha' they didn' pay a'ention 'o you. An',” he paused to swallow, “that they made themselves look like jerks all the time by talking about me “meeting a nice girl”, or whatever.”

Those comments had caused a certain amount of tension a few years ago. Dean had spent several months repeatedly telling his family not to do it, not in front of Cas, until they finally stopped. The tension was not with Dean's actions – those, Castiel loved him for – but over how unhappy they made Dean, and how difficult spending time with his family had been made to be.

“I certainly don't disagree about that,” Castiel sighed. “Have you spoken to them yet?”

“Mom called the other night when I was doing the late shift at Bobby's. She said how sorry she was that she'd not known, and invited us for dinner in a couple weeks for a proper celebration. I said I'd ask you first. 'Sup to you, babe. I can understand if you're too pissed to go.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow at that. If it had come from his mother, or Mary, or Sam for that matter, he would have assumed it to be carefully crafted manipulation – if we're not going to this thing then it's because of your irrational anger, Castiel, and you should know how patient I am being with you – but from Dean it was his honest opinion. The Castiel in his head must have presented a lot of convincing arguments about how insulting the ignorance had been.

And it had been, of course, just not for Castiel's own sake. Or not completely, anyway. But Dean would be hurt by not speaking to his family, once his anger had died down, and Castiel had no wish to hurt him. He sighed. “I will speak to Mary myself later on, if that's alright with you. I feel the need to experience her apology myself before committing to anything.” He tried not to sound apologetic – he and his therapist had worked hard to overcome that impulse, a hangover from his own troubled family life – but he didn't want Dean to feel like he was the unreasonable one for wanting to trust his family.

“I figured you would,” Dean admitted. “I know I forgive them too easily, you know? It's just... it's hard not to be the peace-keeper.”

“I know, belovèd. I need to be sure for myself though, after everything with my mother.”

Dean pulled a face, and reached for Castiel's hand.”I know you, Cas. It's okay. Mom said she'd be in that annoying hipster café she likes from three tomorrow while she finishes off some paperwork, or I think Dad's working late tonight in the shop. I figured you'd prefer the café but I wasn't sure about your schedule this week.”

Gods, Castiel adored this man. “I love you. I'll go tomorrow.”

“I know,” Dean smiled back at him, laughing at Castiel's dramatic eye-roll in return. When lunch was finished, they returned to their various labours with a smile on their faces.


	2. August

The “celebrating Cas and Dean's engagement” dinner lasted all of half an hour before it turned into the “celebrating Sam and Jess's pregnancy” dinner. The bombshell was met with tears and joy this time. Castiel tried not to feel cheated on behalf of Dean, made easier by Dean's obvious happiness. They had only just found out and Sam couldn't keep it quiet. Jessica mostly looked nauseous rather than brimming with joy and glowing with new life; morning sickness, she said, was more like all-day sickness so far.

The conversation stopped being about wedding venues and rings and started being about names of babies and nurseries, and Castiel zoned out. It was very early to announce a pregnancy, but making a stand about superstition surrounding miscarriages was a good thing; he had a cousin who had suffered in silence at her miscarriage, unable to grieve properly because no-one knew, and even when they were told his family had mostly brushed it off as “one of those things” rather than a traumatic and upsetting event which had changed her hope into despair. He hoped that Jess would not go through that, but if she did, at least the family would grieve with her.

Mary in particular was misty-eyed and thrilled at the thought of being a grandmother. He usually liked her very well; she was warm and open, accepting of his sexuality and eccentricities in a way that made it easy to spend time with her. She had been sincerely and deeply apologetic about the circumstances surrounding the last family dinner, and Castiel had been happy to accept her invitation for this one, even if it had ended up being more about Sam than Dean.

Castiel phased back in when Sam said,“Sorry for stealing your thunder, Dean, but we've been trying for a few months now and we just got so excited.” Jess gave them both an apologetic grimace and took another sip of ginger beer.

“Nah, it's okay, I'd be excited too. I mean I am excited for you, but... you know what I mean.” Dean was never at his most eloquent when his emotions ran high.

“We didn't realise you were trying though,” Castiel added. “I understand it makes it much more exciting when you find out.”

“Did Dean not tell you? Yeah, we said a few months back, after Easter, don't you remember Dean? I guess we're not the only ones who don't pay attention sometimes,” Sam added archly. He wasn't snide enough for Castiel to bristle at it, but it was still an unpleasant reminder of last month's dinner.

“Yes, Dean, you should really have remembered news like that,” John chimed in, and Mary pursed her lips in agreement.

“We weren't there for that dinner,” Castiel said. “I was in Boston for a conference, and Dean was – otherwise engaged.”

“No, I knew you were away, but I'm sure I remember Dean there,” Mary said. “You'd hurt yourself and you were limping around at the barbecue.”

“That was the week after, Mom,” Dean said tiredly. “I was in hospital for that dinner. 'S why I was limping after.”

“Hospital? What for? You hurt yourself at work, son?” John looked concerned, knowing full well the dangers of workplace accidents.

“Nothing like that, Dad, don't worry.”

“Another bar fight, Dean?” Sam was definitely snide this time. Dean's (quite formidable) reputation as a fighter had definitely come about through drunken brawls, but fights had been few and far between over the past few years, and were mainly instigated by other people wanting to take on someone with a reputation, or sometimes because someone felt their masculinity was threatened by the presence of two men in a monogamous relationship quietly spending an evening together.

Angry now, Castiel took a breath to speak, but Dean got in first.

“I was donating bone marrow for some kid whose leukaemia wasn't responding to treatment, actually. Hurt like a bastard for a couple weeks afterwards, the needle went in a bit odd and they had to go in a couple times.” Jess turned pale, and Dean quickly added with a smile, “It's okay, I was pretty doped up on painkillers. No manly screaming or nothin'.”

“Ugh, I really don't want an epidural for exactly that reason,” she responded. “Too many horror stories. And I hate needles. Did you hear back about the kid?”

“Yeah, he's doing great, the hospital passed on a letter from him and his mom. He's in remission and back in AP. Weird little nerd, but we've been keeping in touch, he doesn't have a lot of family other than his mom so I've been giving him advice about picking up the ladies and Cas has been passing on tips about philosophy and college essays and crap like that.”

“Well that's wonderful, Dean! I'm so proud of you, honey,” Mary smiled.

“I uh, I thought they, uh...” John gestured vaguely at Dean and Castiel together. “Don't they... not want gay men to donate?”

“I signed up to the bone marrow register years ago, and they were happy to take it, I was the only match. Had to run a few more tests than normal I guess, but Kev was happy to take bisexual bone marrow.”

“We were both disappointed to find out that it does not, in fact, come out of the body in Pride colours” Castiel added drily. “Dean offered to send a little flag along with the donation but the hospital thought that was in “bad taste”.” Dean air-quoted along with him, and Castiel levelled a fond glare at him. Jess laughed, and Sam looked entertained by the idea.

“Well, you did a good thing, son,” John said with finality.

No-one mentioned not knowing about it beforehand this time, which Castiel was relieved by. Dinner continued pleasantly. Castiel made a strong case for naming the baby Samandriel, but Jessica was firm in her vetoing of any and all baby names for the time being, “At least until I've passed the first trimester, you people are crazy”.

At home, though, Dean was quieter than he had expected after such big family news, especially combined with vocal approval from his father. Castiel interrupted his contemplation with a kiss, and Dean focussed on him with a smile.

“Sorry, babe, I was miles away. Wanna hit the sack now? Or... shower first?” He nuzzled into Castiel's neck, nipping gently at the skin, and Castiel found that he was suddenly more than happy to be distracted by soapy sex and an early start to tomorrow.

“You know I'm always happy to listen,” he murmured back, pulling Dean to his feet with one hand and sliding the other across those broad shoulders and down the long muscles of his back.

“I'll get there. Right now though...” Dean lifted Castiel up onto his waist - Castiel hooked his legs around him with a small groan, he loved the strength and fervency of this man – and carried him to the bathroom.

Dean fell asleep pillowed on Castiel's chest that night, his left arm slowly growing numb as he stroked Dean's back and brushed kisses into his hair. He could lie here with him forever, numb arm or not. Tonight had been a good night.

 

The restaurant was one of Lawrence's more upmarket venues, and not one that Castiel would really have chosen to go to had the meal not been an engagement gift from his Head of Department, sometime friend and frequent nemesis, Fergus Crowley. Accordingly, he and Dean were seated at a table eating the fourth of twelve courses from the tasting menu, and drinking over-priced European wine.

Dean looked almost good enough to eat himself, dressed in a fitted navy suit, white shirt open to show just enough skin to keep the blood permanently circulating around Castiel's crotch. He adjusted his pants. Again. Dean smirked at him and took a delicate mouthful of rainbow cod from his fork.

Bastard.

Castiel returned his attention to his own plate, trying another small piece of cod with the next colour in the rainbow sauce – he suspected some subtle jibe by Crowley but had no evidence of any recent change in the menu, and it was too delicious a dish and too good an evening to care. The sauces were nothing particularly special, but they all complimented the fish and the colours looked natural to his eye.

“What's your favourite?” he asked Dean, studiously avoiding looking at his damn collarbone and concentrating instead on getting a perfect rainbow of colours on his fork for the next piece.

“The blue one with the orange one. Not sure why.” Castiel finished his last piece of fish and dabbed a finger into the blue and orange sauces carefully, sucking it off thoughtfully while raising an eyebrow at Dean.

“Yes, the flavour combination is very pleasant,” he pronounced, watching Dean's eyes darken briefly with a satisfied smile on his face. “I'm very impressed with this dish, actually. Do you think we should speak to the chef about the recipe? Or about hiring them for the wedding?”

“Seems a bit much to hire them for one dish,” Dean replied doubtfully. “I mean, it's nice, and I like the symbolism and whatever, but I'm gonna want to see their pie before I commit to a caterer, you know?” He took a sip of wine and murmured his thanks to the waitress clearing their plates. “And... it ain't gonna be cheap.”

“No, but Mother insists on spending her money on us, and this could be an acceptable compromise. Local to Lawrence, but rarefied enough to satisfy her tastes.”

“Let's see what they do with dessert then,” Dean responded with a grin.

The restaurant grew louder as a large party of corporate types came in, talking at high volume and getting in the way of the serving staff. Castiel eyed them with distaste; he had inherited his mother's views on proper etiquette in restaurant, and interrupting fellow diners was Not Done in Naomi Milton's book.

“Isn't that Sammy over there?” Dean pointed out with a discrete nod. “Must be his firm in, I recognise a couple folks.”

Castiel nodded, picking out the odious Zachariah Adler, who he had had the misfortune of encountering several times at fundraising events, as well as Sam's best man Brady. Sam nodded to the pair of them in recognition before returning his attention to Brady and the gorgeous brunette sitting sitting beside him.

“Do you know the woman Sam's sitting next to? I see Brady's fiancée, it seems odd that Jess isn't here,” he commented.

“I think she's his para-legal,” Dean replied, looking at the next course – wild boar mousse with deep-fried rocket and cubes of parmesan – with some dismay. “Jess has been too sick for stuff like this, really. She cancelled coffee on me the other day because she can't stand the smell of coffee grounds any more.”

“I remain thankful for my lack of a uterus.”

“Yeah, me too. For my lack of one, anyway. You'd be a hot chick.”

Castiel batted his eyelashes at Dean, who laughed loudly and smiled fondly at him. He busied himself with the food, which in his opinion was trying to be cleverer than it deserved, but had at least preserved the flavours better than many such attempts he had eaten with his mother. Dean remained unconvinced, muttering about weird froufrou things done to defenceless pork, although Castiel noted he had finished it all off, even the rocket.

The conversation meandered over the next courses – some tiny savoury macarons with duck patties and brie as fillings; a hot plate with quail's eggs sizzling on it, served with slender cuts of ostrich breast and a creamy sauce pairing the two with a label saying "eat me" attached to it; a variation on a Greek spinach pie made to look like a crown and decorated with edible flowers, which would have been much more effective in the right season; and an exquisite slice of fillet steak with Chinese spices, with Oriental roots and vegetables on the side. Castiel was sorely tempted to lick the plate of the last one, and dragged his finger through the remains of the sauce again. Dean glared at him.

“Oh, I, sorry, that wasn't supposed to... I just really liked the sauce. It was delicious.”

“I preferred the tiny duck burgers but it was really good.”

“Macarons.”

“They looked like burgers, Cas, I don't care what they're called in French.”

“They were very clever, yes. I imagine they would make excellent buffet food. At, say, an evening event.”

“Jesus, Cas, I got your point. I meant what I said about the pie. Although the pastry on that spinach thing was really good, so I have high hopes.”

“Spanakopita.”

“Jackass.” The insult lost any sting as Dean took his hand and smiled at him. “You're going to be doing this for the rest of our lives, aren't you?”

Castiel's breath caught in his throat and he grinned back. “Every day, belovèd.”

“Good,” Dean breathed. He started to raise Castiel's hand to his lips when the waitress interrupted them apologetically to take away their plates and give them a small glass of lime sorbet as a palate cleanser. Dean treated her to a brilliant smile anyway; she blushed a fiery red and hastily withdrew, and Castiel remembered the first time he had been treated to that smile, and reacted in precisely the same way.

The trio of desserts were much less experimental than the rest of the meal, but delightfully well balanced in flavour and texture. The first was a rich chocolate, chilli and cinnamon cake, so dense Castiel was grateful it was a tiny portion. After that, a trio of tiny pies – Dean cooed over them so much that people stared, then looked away in horror as he moaned while he ate them – and finally, frozen balls of green tea liqueur dropped into a cup of steaming jasmine-scented water, with delicate wafers shaped like lotus flowers on the side.

Castiel sipped his infusion and waited for Dean to break the silence.

“Yes okay those were really incredible pies. Your mom can hire away.” Dean tossed a wafer into his mouth and washed it down with a large mouthful of the infusion. “Although I feel a little cheated by this course, I gotta say. Why not a cheese board or something?”

Castiel repressed a sigh. “It's about balancing the flavours and created a visual spectacle,” he began, before he caught the mischief in Dean's eye. “Oh, very droll. If you say that to my mother she'll lecture you for hours. She really cares about fine dining. Consider this your only warning on the matter.”

“I remember what she was like in that steak place,” Dean nodded, shuddering slightly.

“She was on her best behaviour for that one. She chose the restaurant for you especially.”

“Say what now?” His eyes widened in horror. “What the hell am I marrying into?”

“Pretension and inherited wealth. You'll get used to it. At least Uncle Marv has disowned us, he could get...” Castiel struggled for an appropriate word. “Well, no need to worry about him, thank any and all gods.”

Dean shifted in his seat uncomfortably, eyes sliding away. Castiel knew what he was thinking as clearly as if he were a mind-reader. “Still don't know what you even see in me,” Dean murmured. “I got nothing in common with your family.”

Castiel took his hand gently. “I see a man who gave up all of his ambitions for himself just to help his family. I see a man who gives freely of himself to help strangers. It's how we met, remember? I see your vision, and your intelligence, your skill with your hands and eyes, your quickness on your feet and the sharpness of your tongue. I see your beauty.”

Dean was blushing now, but he looked like he believed in Castiel's sincerity even if he couldn't believe it himself. “Plus I'm good in bed, right?”

“You are a generous lover with a great deal of skill and stamina, and I am looking forward to testing those once we get home,” Castiel nodded in agreement. The unlucky waitress made a choked squeak as she collected their dishes, and Castiel found himself blushing and stammering an apology to her.

“No, no, it's fine!” she exclaimed. “It's just, you're both so hot and nice, and I'm really happy you're together. It's super romantic. Can I – can I get you guys anything else? To take home even?”

“The check, please. Oh, no, actually there is something else. Can you ask the head chef, as long as he's not one of those shouty ones, I hate that, but if he – or she, sorry – if we could get their details? We're, uh, we wanna see if he-or-she would be up for catering our wedding. Paid by a rich lady. But not if they're an ass, I don't want that near us when we get married. Also you should find a better job if they shout at you.” Dean had strong feelings about abuses of power.

The waitress made another audible squeak. “Ohmigod that's so great! Congratulations! It's a he, and he doesn't shout, so I'll just go and see and get your check, okay?” She rushed off with their plates and left them with the last of the dessert wine.

“Wow, she is going to be really enthusiastic to the chef, isn't she?” Dean rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“Probably. At least we know she wasn't being friendly for the tip. And if she's part of the catering deal I'm sure she'll put her enthusiasm into her work.” It was rare to find such good cheer in these kinds of restaurant, and Castiel felt an odd sense of protectiveness towards the girl; he'd seen her evade the hands of a number of men at the law firm table over the course of the evening.

She returned with the chef's business card and the check on a small platter, as well as a box which contained a dozen or so slightly flawed mini pies. “We get to eat them if they're spoiled but I told everyone about how cute you guys were and they all chipped in their pies, I know you liked them best, and Chef said to say he's off on Monday so if you want to call that would be the best day, and also thank you for considering him. And I hope you have a really great night. I mean I'm sure you will!” She smiled brilliantly at them both and disappeared to another table. Castiel laughed, and left her a generous tip.

Dean cradled the pie box all the way home, and fed them to Castiel in bed, sweetness on his lips and laughter in his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This had the most rewrites of anything I've ever written, I think. Three attempts at the first part and two for the second.
> 
> Food info: I actually have a recipe for the duck macarons, which I really want to try someday when I work out who to reliably make macarons; macarons are little perfectly round meringues-like things that are usually sweet, but they can be made savoury by not adding sugar to them. Spanakopita is a traditional Greek spinach pie, made with lemon juice and feta cheese and wrapped in filo pastry. I don't actually like fish so I have no idea what the rainbow sauces would be made of, but you can get a lot of really good natural colourings if you try. The ice-cube-in-tea dessert is one that I've had as a cocktail, it works really well.
> 
> I'm on tumblr as [knittedgauntlets](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/knittedgauntlets), I sometimes post things. I'll do an inspirations and creative decisions post about this fic at some point for sure.


	3. October

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for emetophobia: non-graphic description in the first part of this chapter. Leave a comment or message me on [tumblr](http://knittedgauntlets.tumblr.com/) if you're worried or want a summary.

The table was crowded with the usual Winchester complement and the additional presence of Ellen and Jo Harvelle. Jo had only just come back to Lawrence after an extended trip around all 50 states, as well as a good chunk of Central America and some of the Canadian provinces, and Ellen was spending as much time with her as she could before Jo inevitably got itchy feet again.

The conversation over Mary’s excellent chilli had mainly revolved around Jo’s favourite places and the funny stories she had gathered along the way, but she had refused to be drawn in on any relationship speculation on the part of Mary, Ellen and Sam, and had turned the topic instead towards Dean and Castiel’s wedding. Castiel didn’t know whether to be impressed at her evasion or annoyed at her throwing them to the wolves.

“We got the chef of Le Canard Gros for catering,” Dean said through a mouthful of apple pie. Sam’s jaw dropped, and Ellen raised an eyebrow. “Naomi emailed us the contract earlier today so it’s all official.”

“How can you possibly afford that?” Sam asked. Jess hissed something at him that Castiel couldn’t catch. She was pale and wan at his side, clearly thinner than she had been two months ago.

“My mother is paying. She loves fine dining, so this seemed like an ideal way for her to contribute. We were very impressed with the quality of the tasting menu when we were there a month ago.”

“Those little pies, mmm, I could eat them forever,” Dean sighed. He caught his mother’s eye and added hastily, “Yours is better though Mom, for sure. But you don’t really have the set-up to cater for 100 people.”

“Tartelettes,” Castiel murmured, and Dean smiled at him fondly. The romantic effect was slightly spoiled by the crumbs on his chin and the drop of ice cream on his lips.

“How many courses?” Ellen’s professional curiosity was piqued.

“Five. Starter, fish course, main course, dessert, and a cheese board. I put Mother in charge of pairing wines with the courses, she was overjoyed. Vegetarian and vegan options are still to be arranged but we expect to have them soon, and the chef is fully on board with preparing variations for anyone with dietary restrictions.” Castiel was very pleased with the arrangement.

“Was your mom actually overjoyed? I couldn’t tell if that was sarcasm or not,” Jo said, grinning at him.

“I could hear the excitement through the phone, yeah. From the next room. It’s the most excited I’ve ever heard her. I was kinda freaked out.” Dean pulled a comedy “spooked” face, but he had genuinely been perturbed during the phone conversation. So had Castiel; he had never heard his mother reach such a high pitch before.

“She really likes fine dining,” Castiel nodded. “And she was afraid that I wouldn’t let her do anything, so the fact that she’s got two things to organise has made her very happy.”

“It’s good to see you’re getting along better, sugar,” Ellen said with a smile. She had been his confessor during the worst periods of his relationship with his mother, when he was drowning his sorrows in the Roadhouse several years ago. “You tell her I’ll kick her ass if she pulls any passive-aggressive crap with you at the wedding, alright?”

“I would pay to see that,” Dean said fervently. “So would Bobby. But for different reasons.” Ellen rolled up a napkin and threw it at his head, and Jo laughed hysterically.

Jess excused herself from the table, white around the lips, and Castiel watched her worriedly. Sam didn’t appear concerned, talking quietly with John.

“What about a venue? Lots of places with space for a hundred guests, at least.” Ellen had returned to businesswoman again.

“The Veranda. We’re getting a great deal, I know the owner. Detailed his Porsche a few months back. We'll have 250 or so people for the evening so that narrowed our options down.”

“Not the Country Inn out of town? I love the grounds there, they’re beautiful.” Mary looked wistfully at her own wedding photo.

“Yeah, no. Cas has strong feelings about not having colonial stuff around him. Which I totally support and understand. I like the architecture in The Veranda, it’s clean and modern without being aggressive, and some of the struts and things are really impressive. I mean, architectural engineering isn’t really my thing, I still prefer mechanical engineering, but I did a course last semester and it was really interesting, you know? Really made me appreciate good building design.”

John and Sam both looked incredulously at Dean, who met their gaze steadily. “What? I can like nice things too,” he said, helping himself to another slice of pie.

“Well, The Veranda is lovely,” Mary said. “What about the ceremony?”

“Pastor Jim agreed to officiate, but we’re still not sure if we want a church wedding or just to hold it at the venue. The hotel is okay with it.”

Mary and Ellen began exclaiming over not having a church wedding, but John, Jo and Sam were supportive of not having one. Castiel slipped out; his presence was not required for this, and Dean might find it useful to use him as an excuse if Mary started trying to emotionally blackmail him into doing things her way.

He went in search of Jess, who had been absent for some time now, and found her huddled around the toilet bowl upstairs.

“Is there anything I can do? I’m not very good at sympathy but Dean always appreciates me rubbing his shoulders when he’s in a similar position.”

Her lips trembled and a tear left another track on her cheek. “I just want to die. Can you kill me? Please?” Her voice was rough and heartfelt, and Castiel dropped down beside her and hugged her awkwardly.

“I take it your gynaecologist refused to give you anything for the nausea,” Castiel murmured. He gathered her hair back from her neck and reached for a wash cloth, running cold water over it.

“He says I just have to tough it out. I’m past the end of the first trimester, it should be over now,” she whispered. “It’s not the throwing up that really gets me. The nausea just won’t stop. And Sam’s useless with it, he’s shit at people throwing up around him.” She paused. “Oh, god, kill me,” she moaned, and bent over the toilet fully.

It took nearly half an hour before Jess’ nausea died down to manageable levels. Dean and Jo both looked in on them, separately, bringing ginger ale and a glass of water. Jo looked horrified at the whole thing and vowed that her uterus was closed for business, which made Jess laugh a little, and Dean pressed a kiss to her sweating forehead and told her to “kick its ass”. Castiel pondered out loud what “it” was in that scenario, which also made Jess laugh.

She was worryingly shaky when she was finally able to leave the bathroom again, and Castiel made her sip the ginger ale with a scowl until the fine tremula of low blood sugar subsided. He held her arm going down the stairs and escorted her to the living room, where she sank into the couch with a sigh, to be cooed over by the proud grandparents and both Harvelles.

Castiel went into the kitchen to fetch himself a beer – if ever he deserved one it was tonight – and saw that Sam and Dean were still in the dining room. Dean’s posture was defensive and Sam was gesturing dismissively at him.

“I’m just saying, Dean, that it would have been much easier for me if you hadn’t been so lovey-dovey at the restaurant. Adler was a total dick about it and it put me in a difficult situation.”

“What do you want from me here, Sammy?” Dean's voice was hurt and Castiel abandoned the pretence of futzing about in the fridge to watch from the shadows.

“An apology would be nice.”

“Gosh, well, I’m sure sorry your boss is a homophobic douche. But I’m not going to apologise for going on a romantic dinner with my fiancé. The rest of the restaurant made us welcome and comfortable, it’s not my fault Zach’s an asshole.” Dean was keeping his voice low, but it was obviously an effort.

“You don’t understand!” Sam threw his hands up in the air. “I’m trying to make partner, and it would be much easier to suck up to him if you didn’t give him any ammunition.”

“You want me to do what, exactly? Ignore Cas? Stop being bisexual? Not get married until you make partner?”

“Of course not, Dean, just cool it with the PDAs.”

“We literally didn’t do anything other than hold hands. Oh, and I think I kissed his hand one time. That was it. That’s basically nothing.”

“You were having eye sex. Like, the whole time.” Castiel was at the wrong angle to see Sam's face but he could hear his eyes roll.

“So you want me to stop looking at Cas? Wow, Sam. You’re really showing the ally spirit there.”

“Well, I…”

“No no, if that’s what Sammy wants, that’s what Sammy gets, right? I tell you what, why don’t you email us his schedule so that we can make sure not to be in a ten-block radius of you next time we go out, would that make you feel better?”

“I can probably get Ruby to arrange that.”

Dean blinked at him, waiting for the joke. Castiel's heart broke for him as Dean realised that his brother was serious. “You're not... that's really what you want? You'd really rather I was never around than stand up to him?”

“Just for a little while, Dean. Until I make partner.”

Dean pushed himself up heavily. “I'm done. Good talk.” He stalked out of the room and Castiel followed him through the house and into the front yard, worried that he would break his hand by punching the outside wall. Instead, he turned around suddenly and threw his arms around Castiel.

“Am I being unreasonable? I don't even... I just don't know,” he whispered into Castiel's neck.

“No, belovèd. No. He should never have asked that of you.” He held Dean tightly, running one hand over the back of his neck in what he hoped was a soothing manner. “I'm sorry I was eavesdropping.”

“”M glad you were there,” Dean mumbled. “Was the only reason I didn't punch him.” He lifted his head and looked into Castiel's eyes; his own were slightly red-rimmed. “Can we go home? I don't wanna sit there and be told by everyone that I'm the jerk for being angry with him.”

“Of course. I'll go make our apologies. You get into the car and warm up, it's cold out here.” Dean kissed him, still seeking comfort, and headed for the Impala.

Back inside, no-one seemed to have noticed the fight. Sam was sitting at Jess' side, smiling at baby photos of himself that Mary had dug out.

“Dean and I are going to go. Thank you for a lovely dinner, Mary. Ellen, Jo, it was good to see you again. We should catch up again soon.”

“Leaving so soon, hon? Something up?” Ellen's eyes were sharp.

“We both have an early start tomorrow. There's a lot of classwork this time of year.” It wasn't a lie. Castiel had had years of practice at not-lying.

“I expect to see you both after mid-terms are done with, got it?”

He smiled at her fondly. “Yes ma'am.” The room satisfied with his excuses, he left the house and climbed into the Impala, leaning up against Dean as close as he could.

“What can I do?” he asked quietly. “What do you need?”

Dean sighed. “Long drive, loud music. That okay with you?”

“As long as it's not REO Speedwagon.” Castiel turned on the radio, and they drove into the night.

 

Dean was deep into his final year mid-term study-hole, spending long hours revising after he got home from work and sleeping for only a few hours a night. Enough was enough, Castiel decided, and changed his alarm clock so that it would not go off on the Sunday morning. Dean had three days left before the mid-terms actually began, and he was burning out fast.

He crept out of bed as Dean slept through the morning, his body clearly needing to catch up on sleep, and came back in two hours later with a tray of waffles, bacon, strawberries, hand-whipped cream and a pot of French roast. Dean stirred at the smell.

“Whazzat? Mmm, smells good,” he mumbled into the pillow he was clutching to his chest. He blinked sleepily up at Castiel with a smile before sitting up in a panic. “What time is it? Shit, I gotta study, my schedule's all outta whack.” He started struggling out of the sheets.

Castiel glared at him. “No. We are having breakfast in bed. It will be romantic. I will pleasure you orally afterwards. We will shower. Then, and only then, will you study, for no more than four hours before you break for dinner. Am I clear?”

Dean gaped at him, taking the tray thrust at him obediently. “Uh... I really gotta study, Cas, I need to do well.”

Castiel settled carefully onto the bed next to him and started pouring coffee. “You will. I know you. You know it all already. You don't need to make yourself ill over it. Again,” he added, remembering how ill Dean had been two years ago with stress and overwork, an overlooked chest infection causing him to collapse with pneumonia the day after his exams were over.

Dean had the grace to look abashed at the reminder. “I've been careful, I swear. Well, more careful. I've been eating regularly and I'm not sick.”

“You've only been eating because Bobby and I have been forcing you to by waving food in your face, and you're not sleeping properly. That takes a toll on the body. You can't keep doing this to yourself.”

Dean busied himself with creating waffle islands in a sea of maple syrup, piling a raft of bacon up as a dam to protect the sheets, and carefully placing strawberries on top of the enormous mountains of cream. Castiel was entranced; he had clearly worked out the best and most efficient way to get as much food as possible onto his plate without risking a spill.

“I've not been able to focus on studying as much as I want so it's been taking me a lot longer to get through it all,” Dean said abruptly, attacking one of the islands with his fork. “I know it's stupid to spend this amount of time working, but I can't... I keep thinking about, uh. Stuff.”

Ah. Castiel had known that Dean was upset, of course, but he had assumed that he was suppressing it all until after his classwork was out of the way; that was his usual pattern.

“Is there anything in particular? You know I don't want to pressure you into talking before you're ready to, but if something is affecting you this much then you need to do something.” Dean was frozen next to him, and Castiel continued hastily, “If you can't, you can talk to Professor Visyak about giving you an extension. I'm sure she would be happy to.”

Dean concentrated on creating a pattern on one of the cream mountains with tiny droplets of syrup. “It's sort of everything. The wedding stuff, the thing with Sam last week, I'm worried about how ill Jess is, Kev went back in for tests because they're worried the cancer's back, I think Charlie might've broken Jo's heart, and Prof Visyak said I should apply for a doctorate at MIT and I don't know what to do.”

Castiel put his plate down and turned to fully face Dean. “Okay. Those are all scary things.” He reached for Dean's face and tipped it up to look him in the eyes. “So let's break them down. If Kevin's cancer has come back, there are other treatments they can try, and I know you'd be happy to donate bone marrow again.” Dean nodded. “We'll wait to hear from Linda. He's a fighter.

“Have Jo or Charlie actually spoken to you about their situation?” Dean shook his head. “So just be there for them both as a friend. They're both adults. They probably don't want to worry you.”

“Not doing a very good job of it then,” Dean muttered.

“No, but they care, and they know how hard you're working. We could go and see Jo tonight if you want?”

“Maybe if the studying goes well this afternoon.” Dean gave him a small smile. “It'd be nice to get out for a couple hours.”

“The MIT thing is nothing you need to worry about right now. We can talk about that later. But, Dean, you need to know how proud I am of you that this is something that is available to you, whatever you decide. It's an amazing achievement, and you truly deserve it.” Dean's eyes were watering but he managed a genuine grin. Castiel kissed him, licking the syrup from his lips.

“I'm worried about Jess too. How about we try to meet up with her every other day? I'm sure Jo will be happy to keep an eye on her too. And we might look into other gynaecologists in the area, to see if there are any who have a better track record with treating severe morning sickness.”

“Yeah, that's a great idea, actually. She's gotta be too ill to care right now.”

“If the wedding is too stressful for you while you're still studying, we can postpone it for a year. I will wait for as long as you need. We haven't even sent out save the date cards yet, and everyone will understand.”

“No! God, Cas, I'd marry you tomorrow except Charlie would kill me for not letting her be best man. Uh, person. I don't wanna postpone it. I just... I really wish my parents were more excited. They were so involved in Sammy's wedding, you know? It sorta feels like they don't care about ours.”

Castiel kissed him again. “I'd marry you tomorrow too, but I think Mother would disown me again, and I'd actually miss her this time. Shall we stick with July then?”

“It's probably easiest. Plus we'll get more of those pies.” Dean's face brightened at the thought, and Castiel rolled his eyes.

“As far as your brother goes... Well, when Mother was at her most unsupportive about my sexuality, Hannah and Ezekiel started talking about the impact of homophobia on people's lives around the world. It was a slow process, but she became a lot more understanding, and she's not said anything dismissive at all since we reconciled. It's not an ideal solution, but we can do what we can to try to make Sam see that his attitude is part of the problem.”

“I guess so. It might make a difference, yeah. Pretty long-term though.”

“Unfortunately.” Castiel stole a strawberry from one of Dean's cream mountains and ate it thoughtfully. “I do think it would make a difference though. Do you think these would be improved with black pepper? I'm not sure if it would spoil the sweetness or not.”

“Tell you what, why don't you get the pepper mill and we'll find out?” Dean smiled mischievously at him. “And, Cas? Thanks. That was... it was really great. I feel a lot better now.”

When Castiel returned with the pepper mill, he found that Dean had decorated himself with strategically placed piles of breakfast. “You said something about pleasuring me orally?” Dean grinned. “Thought I would combine a couple steps.” Castiel laughed, and drizzled more maple syrup on him to lick off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sincere apologies to anyone from Lawrence KA who is reading this, I took loads of liberties with the venues. The Country Inn is a real place but I'm reimagining it as colonial architecture at its fanciest. The Veranda is totally made up. I also realised that I have no idea how American weddings normally go so I'm just sticking with what I know. Cultural differences pop up in the weirdest places :S


	4. November

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Content warnings in end notes** I don't think there's anything super bad here, but they're not my triggers. Keep yourselves safe. Message me if you have concerns.

Le Canard Gros was just as pleasant on their second visit as it had been before, and with his mother paying for the meal Castiel was happily eating a very fine mushroom forest starter, which appealed to his sense of whimsy as well as his love of truffles. It was almost too pretty to eat, but truffles were normally far out of his price range so his palate over-ruled his sense of aesthetics.

The party consisted of all three parents, with Jody Mills making it an even number. Sam had been invited but had cancelled at the last minute, and Ellen had been unable to find cover for the bar at such short notice.

“I am sorry not to have met Robert,” Naomi said to Jody politely. “Castiel and Dean have both told me a great deal about him.”

“Oh, he's busy this evening with translating some old pillow-book for a friend at KU,” Jody said. “He was very excited about getting his hands on it. Who knew medieval Japanese diaries were so interesting, right?”

“Oh, he's a scholar as well?” Naomi was clearly slotting Bobby into a higher ranking than she had previously had him in.

“Amateur. But Dr Tsukiori really values his opinion, and she loves his poetry translations.” Jody looked proud of him.

“I passed her on campus today, she was really excited about it,” Dean added. “She knows Bobby's busy this time of year though, so she's not expecting anything from him any time soon.”

Castiel could feel Dean flinching as Jody kicked him under the table. “He gets really excited to read new stuff, otherwise I'm sure he'd love to be here.” Dean nodded hastily in agreement.

An efficient stream of serving staff cleared the table and brought out the next course, and the sommelier opened the next bottle for Naomi to give her grudging approval of. Castiel had opted for the fillet steak again, a more generous portion size this time, while Dean had branched out into a mixed bird medley.

“Mmm, this turducken's really good,” he announced to the table with a wink. Castiel caught his mother's eye; she looked slightly pained, but not judgemental, which he took as a good sign. He gave her an amused smile.

Naomi was following the proposed dinner menu, and was eating the fillet steak as well. “You were right about this steak, Castiel. The spices are very well balanced and the meat is beautifully aged.”

“I prefer my steak with blue cheese sauce but it's still good,” John said. Only the twitch of her eyelid showed Naomi's wince. She really was making a huge effort tonight, Castiel realised gratefully. “Goes with our collars, right son?” He laughed. Dean smiled, but his eyes were flat. He was already being headhunted by engineering firms of various different types; even if MIT was something he decided not to pursue, his ambitions were far loftier than working for Bobby for the rest of his life, even if he did love the man as a second father.

“You would have liked the steakhouse we went to outside Kansas City, John,” Naomi said politely. “They had a Stilton, Gorgonzola and Danish Blue triplet of cuts on the menu. I didn't try it myself, but I thought using all three was an interesting choice and it would have been fascinating to see the difference that they brought to the meat.”

John looked interested and requested further details about the steakhouse, which Naomi was happy to furnish. Mary looked a little disgruntled with the conversation, but Castiel couldn't work out why until Dean murmured in his ear, “Mom's pissed because that's Dad's flirting face.” He helped himself to more of the seasonal vegetables that had come with the meat. “I really hate that I know that.”

“Don't worry, your flirting face is much more attractive,” Castiel whispered back.

“Not helping, babe.”

Beside him, Jody snorted into her wine. “You two have moved beyond cavity-inducing and straight into Type 2-inducing, huh?” She shook her head. “I've never been that bad.”

“Please, you and Bobby are nauseatingly adorable most of the time,” Dean shot back. “We have a special bucket at work for when we need to throw up over the cuteness.”

“Dean, dear, not over dinner,” Mary said quellingly. “I'm sure I've never noticed anything like that, Jody. Pay no attention to him.”

“Well, we can get pretty OTT sometimes,” Jody replied. “Comes with having teenagers. I like to gross them out to keep them from either getting knocked up or doing any knocking up. We save a fortune on contraceptives.” Bobby and Jody fostered teens, and were in the process of adopting a girl called Alex.

“I was always glad not to have to worry about teen pregnancy,” Mary nodded. “What about you, Naomi? You have three children?”

His mother was clearly uncomfortable with the turn of conversation. “Yes, Castiel is the eldest, then Ezekiel, then Hannah. Their education was abstinence-only while their father was still around, but I became more liberal once he left.” Castiel bit back a snort and covered it with a long sip of wine. “At least, I thought I had. I learned recently that I was much less well-informed than I had believed myself to be. I fear Castiel bore the brunt of that for many years.”

That was unexpected, and threw Castiel entirely. He struggled to find something appropriate to say, but Dean stepped in to rescue him. “I guess that's always the way, huh? I always thought of myself as pretty knowledgeable about sexuality stuff and homophobia, but then I found out that I knew hardly anything about trans issues, or asexuality, or the romantic spectrum. And no-one ever knows anything about being poly. We all gotta keep learning.”

Naomi gave him a small smile. “It was quite eye-opening when I finally came to learn about it all. I wish I had known it all much sooner.”

“We try to make sure the kids who live with us know all about it. It's easy to think that every kid is up on every new thing, but a lot of them don't know how to even begin finding stuff like that out. We mainly foster LGBTQIA kids, but even so I've had to answer the damnedest questions sometimes.” Jody pulled a face at the horrors of parenting.

“I didn't realise you mostly got the queer kids,” John said. Mary elbowed him. “Uh, sorry, is that a bad word to use?”

“Not in this context,” Castiel replied drily. For all of his faults, John had taken huge steps forward in his understanding of gay rights, although Castiel suspected he had only been educated about the things he had seen, rather than the wider spectrum of sexuality and gender that existed.

“It wasn't really a deliberate thing, but it turns out that there aren't too many people willing to foster young gay kids, or trans kids, or ace kids. The fact that we're happy to means that we foster a lot less straight kids. And Dean gave us a glowing reference, so here we are.” Jody squeezed Dean's shoulders and he blushed faintly.

“You went with Dean as a reference?” Mary said dismissively. Dean hunched a little and looked away; Castiel took his hand and laced their fingers together. “I suppose you do need a lot of references to become a foster parent.”

Jody's eyes flicked between Mary and Dean. “He was our first choice, actually. More as a character reference for Bobby than for me, but he put in a good word for me too.”

“I'm nice like that,” Dean said with a lopsided smile. “It wasn't a big deal, everybody loves you guys. I just did what anyone would've done.”

Jody pinned Dean with her best Sheriff gaze. “When we fostered Alan, the social worker told us that he had come to us because of what you had said about how easy Bobby had made coming out to him when you were a kid. No-one else could have done that for us. Don't sell yourself short, sweetheart.” She turned to Naomi to explain, ”Alan was one of our first fosters, kicked out after coming out. He only stayed for a few months, he was nearly 18 when it happened. He's at college doing filmography now, he graduates this year.”

Over dessert, the conversation moved onto the various challenges of coming out as a teen, and those faced by their parents. Dean stayed mostly silent; Castiel and Naomi shared a fraught look, and spoke carefully. Again, Naomi was open and honest about her failings and regrets, and Castiel relied on Dean's quiet strength and support to get through it.

John was more reticent. “Well, Dean was older when he told me, so I didn't have a lot of what you're talking about.” He frowned into his wine. “Marine Corps was great for a lot of stuff but it wasn't good for hearing that. I, uh... I wish I'd dealt with it better.” He sighed. “I'd like to blame the accident and the pain meds for some of it, I wasn't in a good place back then, but that's only part of the story.”

“I was completely fine with it, of course,” Mary said. Dean busied himself mopping up the last swirls of ganache on his plate. “A mother always knows these things.” She turned to Dean with a tight frown. “What was Jody saying about your coming out to Bobby? When was that?”

“Oh, uh, when I was staying with him sophomore year. He took me out shooting cans in the junkyard one evening after I'd been pissy with him for a few days, and then gave me a beer and told me to get it off my chest. It all kinda spilled out. He was really – he was just Bobby about the whole thing, you know?” Dean smiled at the memory. “Told me to stop whining about it like a princess and nut up, it didn't change anything about who I was.”

“Why didn't you tell us then?” Mary demanded. “We would have been fine with it.” John looked dubiously at her and rubbed his chin awkwardly.

“I could barely say the word bisexual at sixteen, let alone talk about it properly with you. There was so much other stuff going on, you and Dad were fighting all the time over Adam, and Sammy was being a prissy little bi- uh, really annoying and angry about everything. And... stuff in school was weird, and Michael really didn't want it getting around, and it was just easier to keep quiet and not make a big thing about it. I needed the extra seven years. I came out when I was ready to.”

“Well, I admire your courage. Both of you,” Naomi said quietly. She looked Dean and Castiel steadily in the eyes. “It is hard to make oneself so open, regardless of one's age. This world is not kind to people who are different. “Coming out” takes great bravery.” She finger-quoted the phrase, and Castiel realised that he had picked up the habit from her and never noticed it.

“Thank you, Mother,” he replied. “That means a great deal.” He smiled widely at her, and Dean grinned beside him, taking his hand again in a gesture of support as Castiel and Naomi both politely ignored each other blinking away tears.

The meal over, they finished off the dessert wine – John and Dean had both refused any – and Naomi swept them all back to the waiting area. “Castiel, Dean and I are going to wait to speak to the chef to confirm some details about the menu,” she announced, and made their goodbyes to the slightly bemused Winchesters and the considerably amused Jody, who murmured something in Dean's ear before taking John and Mary to the Roadhouse for a nightcap.

Naomi called for a bottle of champagne and refused any protests from Dean and Castiel. “I wish to make a toast. We must have champagne for it. Observe proper etiquette, Castiel.” She pursed her lips at him and he was reminded of a hundred similar instances in his youth; he obeyed instantly. Dean acquiesced in good humour; he hated the sweetness of dessert wine but tolerated champagne well enough.

His mother seemed unusually tense as she raised her flute. “To bravery. And honesty.” They raised their glasses and toasted with her. The champagne was exquisite, but Naomi frowned at it. “You are having coupe glasses at your wedding, not flutes. This would be much better in a coupe.”

“Hey, Naomi, it's okay if you can't say whatever it is that you want to,” Dean said gently. “If you're not ready to, it's fine.” Castiel looked between the two of them in surprise. Dean was always more intuitive than he was, and had clearly worked something out that Castiel suspected he was about to be blindsided by.

“I appreciate your concern Dean, but really, if I'm not ready now I never will be,” she huffed, her irritation with herself apparent in the way she tossed back the rest of her glass. “Very well. Castiel. Dean. I would like you to know that I am asexual and aromantic.” She took a quick breath. “That does feel better to say out loud. I hadn't expected that to be the case.”

Castiel felt that flabbergasted was the perfect word to describe himself right now, but Dean rose to the occasion. “Congrats on coming out, Naomi!” He clinked glasses with her.

“Yes, congratulations, Mother.” Castiel was quite proud to keep his surprise from his voice. “I'm very pleased you felt able to tell us both.” He surprised both of them by kissing her on the cheek. His mother blinked at him owlishly and cupped his cheek delicately.

“You are a far better son than I deserve, and I hope you know how much I love and value you.” She cleared her throat and dropped her hand. “I've not told your brother and sister yet, but I expect to within the week. I thought you deserved to know first. Thank you for not making it more awkward than it needed to be,” she added wryly.

“There's still time, if you want me to,” Castiel offered. Dean laughed at him and threw his arms around them both.

“You guys are awesome. Really, really weird, but awesome.” Castiel and Naomi gave him identical side-eyed glares, and he nearly fell off his chair laughing.

When they stumbled back into their flat once the evening was over, sleep came easily to them both, wrapped around each other against the chill of the night.

 

Castiel had had a busy morning lecturing and tutoring seniors, and he went to the café for lunch with no small amount of relief at the thought of seeing Dean and having an easy afternoon with freshmen. He was waiting at their table when his phone vibrated against he leg, and he pulled it out to see a message from Dean: Sorry babe got to cancel lunch jess in hospital no need 2 worry shes on a drip now.

Fuck.

He tripped over his chair in his hurry to leave the café, grabbing sandwiches to go, and demanding directions from a protesting Dean. He flagged down a taxi and emailed his TAs and Crowley to let them know he would be missing his lectures this afternoon due to a family emergency. For all his protestations, Dean had sounded tense and scared; hospitals worried him at the best of times, and Castiel didn't want him to go through this alone.

Lawrence Memorial was relatively easy to get around, and Castiel was directed to a private room in the ER within minutes. Jess was lying limply on the bed, her slightly rounding abdomen a stark contrast to the slenderness of the rest of her. A drip fed into her arm, pale against the sheet, and her lips were cracked and dry.

He couldn't suppress a gasp. Dean was at his side instantly. “The docs say it's just dehydration from all the puking. She's been pretty out of it, the dehydration hit her really hard. They want an OBGYN consult before they let her go. She was awake enough to tell them they could talk to me ten minutes ago but she's asleep again for now.”

He hugged Dean tightly. “Are you alright?”

“I hate hospitals,” Dean whispered, burying his head against Castiel's neck. “Brings back too much crap.” Sam and Mary had both been in hospital for a long time after the fire that claimed their first home, and Dean remembered it clearly. John, too, had had a long stay after a wall fell on him at the building site he had been overseeing.

“Where's Sam?” Castiel stroked the back of Dean's neck lightly.

“Some conference in Houston. I couldn't get hold of him, had to leave a message with Ruby. Doesn't sound like he'll be able to get away in time.”

Castiel led him to the chairs placed together beside the bed. Dean leaned back into his arm and ran a shaking hand down his face, wiping away a fallen tear. “I was so scared when her work called me,” he said, his voice hitching. “I kept thinking the worst. Drove like a maniac to get here, I got pulled over by a cop at one point but all I said was “hospital” and they let me go. I musta looked like shit.”

In truth he still did, his freckles standing out sharply against his face and his eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot, but against the winter-pale Jessica it was easy to see that it was stress delineating his face and draining him of colour, not illness. Castiel tightened his grip on him and pressed a long kiss into his hair.

They sat in silence for some time, watching Jess sleep. She gradually lost her pallor as her body absorbed the IV bag. She blinked awake suddenly in confusion, and then terrible urgency passed across her face and she looked around wildly. Dean thrust a cardboard container under her mouth and Castiel rushed to support her shoulders as she retched bile helplessly and painfully.

She sobbed in between spasms, still too dehydrated to produce tears or even much saliva. Tears ran down Dean's face as he murmured nonsense to her. Castiel pressed the call button, and prayed silently to any gods who were listening; the liquid in the bowl was turning pink.

A nurse quickly arrived, and took one look at her before going outside to page the OBGYN consult again. She came back with a small bowl of ice chips and some more disposable containers, whisking away the first one for testing.

Jess listened dully to her explanation that the blood was probably just a burst capillary, weakened from stomach acid, and that there was nothing to worry about. “I don't care,” she interrupted. “Is the baby okay?”

“Baby was fine when you came in. We'll do another ultrasound when the obstetrician gets here,” the nurse said soothingly. Jess grunted in reply and reached for an ice chip to rub on her lips.

It took less than ten minutes for the obstetrician to arrive, but Jess was feeling no better, bent gasping over Dean's hands as her stomach tried to empty itself still further. The doctor rattled off a list of requests to the nurse, who hurried away. By the time she came back Jess was lying back on the bed in exhaustion, her face set against the pain of it.

“Okay. First things first, I want to give you this anti-emetic to help with the nausea. It's safe for use on pregnant women, but we need to check you're okay with it.” The doctor was a slim, dark-haired woman with a badge proclaiming her to be Dr. T. Messor.

“If you can't make me stop throwing up I might try to kill myself,” Jess said seriously. Dean flinched and Castiel tightened his grip on his hand. “As long as it doesn't hurt the baby I'll take literally anything.”

Dr Messor used the injection port on the IV to administer the drug. “It should start working soon. If you haven't felt an improvement within half an hour, we'll try something else. We're not going to treat the dehydration and malnutrition without also treating the hyperemesis, don't worry.” She looked at their blank faces and continued, “Hyperemesis gravidarum is a condition which affects a small number of women in pregnancy. It's the extreme version of morning sickness. Because you haven't been able to eat properly, your body has been leeching nutrients from itself to feed the baby, and because you haven't been able to keep enough liquid down for a few days, you're quite dehydrated as well. The drip should be fixing both of those.”

Dr Messor ran an efficient series of tests, the whole room watching the screen with joy as the ultrasound revealed a healthy blob, which she assured them was a baby. She talked them through the next stage: more tests, and a proper treatment plan once the results came through. Jess agreed, and the doctor disappeared. The nurse returned to draw a couple of vials of blood and then left them alone again.

“Talk to me, guys,” Jess sighed. “I need to not be thinking for a while.”

Dean and Castiel looked at each other, and Dean ceded the floor to Castiel with a half-shrug and a head tilt. “Did we ever tell you how we met?” asked Castiel. Jess indicated in the negative. “Well, I was moving into town with all of my stuff in my car, an old Lincoln Continental...”

They successfully distracted her for the two hours it took for the obstetrician to return with a sheaf of paper and a cheerful smile. “Ah, Dr Messor,” Castiel said. “Good news?”

She looked at him suspiciously. “How did you know – oh. The nametag. I always forget about that. Yep, good news, Mrs Winchester; it doesn't look like there are going to be any long-term effects for you, and everything looks fine with the pregnancy. How have you been getting along with the anti-emetic?”

“I still feel a little nauseous but I've been drinking some water and not throwing it up, so that's definitely an improvement on the past couple of days,” Jess said cautiously.

“That's a good start. I'm going to try you on some toast once we finish talking, okay? If you can keep that down too I'll consider letting you home this evening. Which one of you two is Mr Winchester?”

“Uh, me,” Dean said. “But I'm not Sam. Uh, I'm not the husband. I'm the brother-in-law. Cas is my fiancé.” Castiel gave a little wave with his free hand; Jess had a tight hold of the other.

“Can I ask where your husband is?” Dr Messor looked serious.

“In Texas for a client conference. He's a lawyer too,” Jess said. “I practice at a family law clinic downtown, Sam's in corporate.”

“Okay. I need to ask you a couple more personal questions, okay? You might not want these two in for that,” Dr Messor said.

Jess frowned slightly. “You're going to ask me if my husband is abusing me and if that's the reason why I got into this state. No, he's not. I don't know why it got so bad over the last few days.”

“It's clearly been bad for a while, Mrs Winchester,” Dr Messor said gently. “You have low levels of a lot of important vitamins and minerals.”

“I – I knew I wasn't eating enough, but Dr Bartholomew kept telling me there was nothing he could do and I would just have to tough it out. I tried to eat as much high-calorie stuff as I could, when I could. I thought it was going to get better, I swear.” She began to cry, finally hydrated enough to produce tears. “I would never forgive myself if I hurt my baby.”

“You said earlier...”

“I know what I said! I've been nauseous for four months! I haven't had a solid meal in two weeks, and I feel sick all the time, and sometimes I don't make it to the bathroom on time and I'm sick on myself and I hate it, I really hate it, and no-one ever listens to me, they just keep on saying it'll get better but it's not!” She struggled to regain control of herself. “I feel so helpless with it, you know? Like my body's not my own any more, I'm just stuck here while all this horrible stuff keeps happening to me, and everyone says I should be happy. It took me a week to work out I could feel the baby move, because I thought it was just more weird stomach stuff.”

Jess sighed, and tightened her grip on Castiels's hand so hard he could feel the bones start to complain. “I just want someone to believe me. These guys did, and a couple of people at work, but no-one else has. So I said what I said. Hyperbole is the last resort of a desperate woman.”

“Okay. I had to be sure. I know it's not much comfort, but what you're saying is actually pretty common with HG, and there's a therapist I work with who takes referrals if you want extra support during this.” Dr Messor gestured to the papers in her hand. “I know you've been doing your best, and you've been doing such a good job of looking after your baby that they weren't affected at all. Baby is totally fine, okay? Trust me on this. Right now, we need to concentrate on you.”

Jess was muffling sobs into Dean's shoulder, but she nodded. Dean looked like he was deep in a self-loathing cycle, no doubt blaming himself for not noticing how bad it had gotten and overlooking everyone else's part in this tragedy.

Castiel needed to be the efficient one right now, for all of them, and he would not let them down. He rattled off a series of questions and memorised the answers as best he could. The baby was fine and there were things that could be done to help Jess; he tried to focus his questions on solutions, not problems.

He followed Dr Messor out and frowned at her in the corridor. “You're not saying the worst things because you want her to get better. Tell me.”

She sighed. “Before modern medicine this was one of the main reasons women died in pregnancy. Her baby was within tolerable limits when she was admitted, but the heartbeat was elevated and there were early signs of distress. She needs medication and care until this finishes, and it might not. I can't give you any guarantees here.”

Castiel nodded tightly. “What do we- do Dean and I need to look out for?”

“Malnutrition is hard to diagnose without blood tests, but watch for sudden changes in energy levels. Dehydration shows in the skin, I've got leaflets I'll give you. Any confusion or faintness, she needs to come straight in.” She pursed her lips. “I strongly advise her to find a new OBGYN, even if it isn't here. She's not the first I've seen from Dr Bartholomew like this. And, frankly, I'm concerned that her husband didn't notice this developing.”

“So am I,” Castiel said grimly. “Thank you for telling me this.” He went back into the room, and told funny stories until his voice was hoarse and his heart was hollow.

 

In the end, Jess was admitted overnight, her body too run-down to bounce back quickly. Castiel and Dean were chased out when visiting hours ended, Dean leaving strict instructions with both Jess and the duty nurse to contact him if anything “looked weird or felt funky”.

Castiel drove them home, the Impala steady in his hands. Dean stared out of the window into the distance, blinking sleepily once they reached their apartment. Castiel gave him the long-forgotten sandwich to eat and virtually inhaled his own.

Dean ate half of his listlessly and gave the rest to Castiel. “I'm gonna hit the sack.” Castiel watched him walk heavily to the bathroom and cursed under his breath. He finished the sandwich, still hungry after two missed meals, and ate Dean's leftover in three bites.

Dean exited the bathroom and Castiel jumped into the shower, trying to work out the restless energy he still had. His mind kept fixating on the small details of the day. Dean's tears, Jess' pain, his own fear and suppressed anger; none of it seemed to leave him, becoming ever more overwhelming. He was trembling as he exited the shower, and he slipped on the floor, landing with a thud.

Adrenaline lanced through him sickly and his breathing sped up. He fumbled for a towel. His fingers would not obey him. He could feel Jess' cold fingers gripping onto him, Dean's warm ones trembling faintly under his touch, but he could not find the towel. His vision had become strange and distant; where was the towel? He was cold now without it.

Distantly, he heard the door bang open, and Dean's voice said, “Jesus, Cas, are you hurt? Talk to me, babe, tell me if you hurt anything,” a note of desperation in it.

He looked up at Dean slowly. “I'm not hurt,” he gasped out. “I can't find the towel.” His breathing was harsh in his ears, and hurt his throat.

Dean was down on the floor beside him and wrapping him in one of the big guest towels they kept before Castiel knew what was happening. “It's okay, I got you,” he murmured. “Just breathe, sweetheart. It's okay.” He grabbed another towel and started drying Castiel's hair one-handed, the other keeping a tight grip round his waist. “Come through to the bedroom. I've got the electric blanket on. Just lean on me, it's okay.”

It was only once Castiel was dried off and lying in bed that he realised that the strange breathing was sobbing, and that he had been doing it for some time. He was still trembling, but he was warm under the blankets and in the circle of Dean's arms, lying against his chest. He hiccoughed to a stop.

“Back with me again?” Dean asked softly in his ear. Castiel nodded jerkily, not trusting his voice yet. “Been a while since you had one that bad. I'm so sorry, I should've realised you were struggling. Should've done more today.”

Castiel squirmed round in his arms to face him. “Don't make me smite you,” he tried to threaten, but he suspected it was less intimidating with a watery voice. “Don't blame yourself for my issues. I was there for you earlier when you needed it. Now you're here for me.”

“I couldn't have got through today without you, Cas. You were really great.” Dean kissed the tip of his nose and grabbed a wet-wipe from behind Castiel, cleaning his face with it gently.

“So were you. I mean it, Dean.” Castiel ran his fingertips lightly over Dean's brow and down his cheek, reassuring himself of Dean's presence and revelling in working extremities again. “Belovèd. Thank you.” He blinked sleepily and nuzzled into the perfect position to sleep. Anxiety attacks always made him tired, and on top of such a long and distressing day he was now so fatigued he could barely move.

Dean switched the lamp off and caressed him gently in the dark, then swore and turned the light back on to find the off switch for the electic blanket. “Always forget about this damn thing,” he muttered, casting about one handed. Castiel hummed something in response, not moving. Dean finally found it and the room fell back into darkness.

“Sleep well, angel,” Dean whispered. “I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings ahoy: brief but explicit emetophobia stuff; medical procedures, mostly off-camera but some discussion of drips, blood tests; anxiety attack, narrated.
> 
> I don't even like mushrooms, but I really want a little pretend mushroom forest starter. It looks so cute in my head. Seriously though, mushrooms are the devil.
> 
> This chapter is much longer, as is the next one. I've upped the chapter count by 1, but I don't think it's going to go up more than that.


	5. December

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some homophobic language directed at Cas and Dean in this chapter. Also discussion of medication and anxiety/phobias. Message me if you have concerns or worries.

Ellen threw a party every year for friends and family just before Christmas. There was a limited amount of free alcohol – usually a mixed bag of things that were nearly out of their sell-by date, things that weren't selling well, and random freebies she'd been given by sellers – and a similarly random supply of free food. She dropped the prices to wholesale on everything else.

Castiel had been a regular attendee for a decade now, and he was browsing happily through the big group photos and small candids which Ellen had decorated the bar with. Jess was at his side, her nausea finally under control enough to allow her to be in the presence of food and alcohol.

“Oh my god, what were you wearing?” she laughed, pointing at his second attendance. “You look like a stripper!”

Castiel cleared his throat. “There was some kind of party game that year. With forfeits. I was not lucky.” He scrutinised himself, squeezed into a pair of sparkly red hotpants courtesy of Jo, and wearing copious amounts of eyeliner and glitter, courtesy of Ellen. “I think I look quite fetching.”

Dean was in the picture too, his arm around Aaron, a brilliant smile on his face; it was the first year he had been out, and the party meant a lot to him. Castiel smiled in memory of Dean's effusive drunken thanks to everyone present for their support. They had barely known each other beyond Castiel being a barfly and Dean sometimes tending for him, neither of them realising who the other was after their first meeting, but Dean had still thanked him. It had been the true start to their friendship, once they had both recovered from the post-party embarrassment; those shorts had concealed nothing.

They meandered down the wall, Castiel explaining context to the ever-curious Jess. There was Rufus with a piece of mistletoe taped over his head, collecting kisses from everyone, and there was Bobby kissing him in the next picture, a look of comedy horror on Rufus' face. A collage of Ash asleep on the pool table over a fifteen-year period made him laugh; his mullet had remained identical for the whole time. Charlie's hair began to stand out, as she made her way into the extended family; the first year she clung tightly to Jody, but she came out of her shell rapidly, and in the last photo of her she was dressed up as Christmas Princess Leia and pretending to choke an unimpressed Benny with her tinsel-chain. Jo, growing up and leaving the nest, always returning for the holidays.

Jess paused over the big group photos each time, looking at the Winchesters in particular. The year Dean was sixteen, he was firmly at Bobby's side, looking young and angry. It was easy to read the tension between John and Mary in their body language, and Sam was pointedly ignoring all of them, sitting with Jo on the floor. “That was the year they found out about Adam and Kate,” Castiel said quietly. “It took some time to mend the breach in the family, from what I understand.”

Jess nodded understanding. “Are you inviting him to the wedding? Sam spent weeks agonising over whether to invite them or not.”

“Dean wants to, but I'm not sure either of us want the drama that goes along with it. Adam understands the situation, but I think it would hurt him not to be present.” Castiel sighed. “I had assumed my family would be the problematic ones, but Mary is very stubborn about this, and I can't see any way around it.”

They moved on to the latest pictures. Jess frowned thoughtfully at the Winchester group, Dean and Castiel always standing close together, except in last year's picture where Castiel was sitting laughing on Dean's lap, Dean's arms holding him tightly. “I still can't believe none of us knew about you two,” she admitted. “It's so obvious from the photos. Even the ones from our wedding, I went back through them a few days ago and it's right there.” She shook her head. “I really thought you were together but keeping it quiet, you know? But Sam was so adamant that you weren't.”

Castiel sighed bleakly, his guard slipping under the vast quantities of eggnog and esoteric lager he had been plied with. “It was really hard to spend time around the family at the start. I thought they hated me. I've encountered so much homophobia before, I thought it was more of the same, that they resented me for bringing Dean's sexuality to the forefront again. It never occurred to me that they – well, that they didn't know.”

Jess' eyes filled with tears, coming easily to her now in the sea of hormones she was swimming in. “I am so, so sorry for my part in it. I should have seen it. I feel so stupid. And what we did to you at the wedding! I would never speak to me again if I were you.” Castiel had been absent from the meal, only being invited to the evening dance. Dean had been incandescent with rage; coming on top of Sam changing his mind about Dean being best man, it had felt like a denial of their relationship. Mary had pressurised Dean to forgive Sam, for the sake of the family, and Dean had eventually calmed down.

Castiel hugged Jess carefully, trying to soothe away her tears. “It's in the past. You didn't know. We barely knew each other at the time.” In truth, he had been angry with her too, and had been sorely tempted to avoid the wedding altogether. He had gone only for Dean's sake. But Jessica had proven herself a friend and ally in the three years since the wedding, and she had long been forgiven for her part in his hurt feelings.

“You're too kind. Both of you. I'm never going to forget what you did for me in hospital.” She wiped her eyes carefully. “Crap, I better go rescue Mom and Dad from Rufus,” she said with alarm. “He's got the mistletoe out again... oh, it looks like your boss has stolen it from him.”

“Oh, damn the man,” said Castiel. “He's going to be awful with it.”

Dean met them with a tray of sliders and a bucket of sweet potato fries; he had been putting a shift in at the kitchen. “Did I just see Jody hit Crowley in the tit?”

“Almost certainly,” Castiel sighed, taking a paper plate from a stash under Dean's arm and helping himself to a slider and a small mountain of fries. Jess made grabby hands and he handed it over with a sigh, taking another two plates and loading one up for Dean as well, who was pouting at him.

“I'll be back in five. Steer clear of Crowley!” Dean hissed dramatically, and made his way through the crowd dispensing foodstuffs and winks. Castiel realised with horror that he didn't have a free hand to eat with, and Jess laughed so hard at him she got hiccups. She was still sniggering when Dean returned, bearing three large drinks.

“Shirley Temple for the lady, and something about Christmas cheer for the two of us,” he said. “Ash is behind the bar.” He tried to give Castiel his drink and take a plate, but was stymied by the lack of free hands until Jess rescued them with a roll of her eyes. “Thanks, Jess. Pretty busy in here tonight, huh?”

“Looks like a lot of plus-ones,” Jess nodded. “My parents seem a little shell-shocked, but they're not dragging me away yet so they must be doing okay.”

“Sam not here yet?” Dean asked diffidently. Relationships between them were still strained; Sam refused to acknowledge that his behaviour was hurtful, and on his part, Dean was making no effort to see his brother outside of family gatherings.

“He has some work thing. The junior lawyers are all going out without the senior staff. He should be here soon though,” Jess said, checking the time.

The noise in the room was interrupted by a deep shout from Bobby. “Hey! Stay away from my kids, y'idjit!” They swung round to watch Crowley turn his attention away from Alan, Claire and the very under-age Alex, and direct it towards Bobby.

“Do you have a better offer?” he purred, his voice filling the momentary silence. He swaggered over to Bobby, who sighed, and kissed him square on the lips. For a long time. Several pictures were taken, and there was a cheer led by Ellen and Jody. The “kids” all turned various shades of mortification.

“Charlie owes me twenty bucks,” Dean said with a grimace. “Shit, that was a bet I would've been happy to lose.”

“I thought the bet was for-” Castiel began, but then he observed the hand placement of the pair, and cut himself off. “Never mind.” They only broke it off once Jo started threatening them with the soda gun.

“This is much better than last year,” Jess said happily. “Hey, Mom. Do you remember Dean and Cas?”

“Is that man going to sexually harass everyone in the room?” Mrs Moore asked worriedly. “Hello, Dean and Cas, Merry Christmas.”

“God, I hope not,” Dean said. “If he gets handsy, Jody's already hit him in the left nipple, it should be pretty tender. I'd aim there.”

“No!” blurted Castiel. “That's really not a – he'll take it the wrong way.”

“Say what now?” Dean said, squinting at him.

“He'll take it as foreplay. That's where he has the piercing,” Castiel muttered, embarrassed that he even knew that. Fergus had expensive taste in whisky, and was generous with it. Castiel was privy to far more information about the man than he was comfortable with.

“So... earlier...”

“Yes.”

“Oh god.”

“Yes.”

Jess was bent double with laughter, wheezing and clutching her mother. “Best. Party. Ever,” she choked out. Mrs Moore – Castiel couldn't remember her name for the life of him – raised her eyebrows, but looked amused, ever the liberal Californian.

The night continued apace, Castiel accompanying Dean as he wandered around the room greeting people and making sure they were fed and watered. He kept an eye on Jess, who was clearly flagging as the night was wearing on; her medication was making it possible for her to eat again, but it left her tired. He caught her frowning at the time more than once: Sam was still absent, and the big group picture was always set for 11pm. The party itself would continue until the wee hours of the morning.

He caught up with Fergus Crowley at the bar, where he was perusing the malt selection with a critical eye. “The 21 year old is much better, but this'll do. Want one?” he offered Castiel. “I'm trying to educate Robert. He insists that bourbon is better.”

“Bobby is a man of many talents, but his taste in alcohol is not one of them,” Castiel said. “Yes please. Speyside, I presume?”

“Of course. Benromach. Not as good as a Glencraig, but you can't get those for love nor money this side of the pond.” He sighed deeply. “I'd sell my soul for another sip of that.”

Castiel squinted at him. “Your priorities are a mystery to me.”

“That's because you don't appreciate the finer things in life, angel.” He handed Castiel a generous three fingers of the chosen single malt, pouring another for himself and a much smaller amount for Bobby. “Ellen! Be a love and put this on my tab,” he shouted. She looked sourly at him but nodded. “You know, I don't think she likes me much.”

“Nobody likes you much, Fergus,” Castiel sighed. “You're insufferable.”

Crowley beamed at him. “I do try. Now, if you excuse me, I have a bearded colonial to educate.” He swept off to Bobby, smiling menacingly.

Dean appeared next to Castiel and kissed his cheek. “Having fun, babe?”

“I am. Are you?”

“Yeah. Exams are over, Jess is doing much better, and oh! Kev texted me. His white blood count is back to normal. They're thinking it was just because of the mono.” Dean shook his head. “I was pretty sure I warned him about being careful who you kiss in mono outbreaks, but he clearly didn't listen.”

“It's good that you have such a wealth on information to draw on,” Castiel said. Dean scowled at him, and he responded with his biggest smile, and took a sip of his whisky.

“You're such a little shit,” Dean murmured, pulling him in closer and hovering over his mouth. “I'm going to get you for that.” He drew away just as Castiel was moving in for the kiss, and laughed at his scowl. “Told you.”

“Wow, Sam told me about you leaving pussy behind but I never thought I'd see it,” a sneering voice interrupted them. “Taking it up the ass must be more fun than I thought.” Castiel swung around with a scowl; Dean tensed beside him.

“Brady,” Dean said flatly. “Sam finally remembered he has other friends than you?” Dean loathed Brady with a passion he normally reserved for people who treated cars and children badly.

“He dragged me along after his little woman started pestering him. Something about a group photo?”

“It's for friends and family,” Castiel growled. “You're neither.” He stalked off, and Dean followed with a smirk. Castiel glowered over at Sam, who was putting his best puppy-dog eyes on in the face of Jess' anger at his lateness, and found his arm captured by Ellen, Jody at his side.

“I know he's a pain in the ass, and he ain't no friend of mine either, but no starting anything. I'll handle it,” Ellen said quietly. “He's just tryin' to get under your skin.”

“You didn't hear what he was saying,” Castiel began hotly, but Jody pursed her lips at him.

“I've seen him do this a hundred times in court. The angrier you get, the more he can paint you as irrational. Come on, Cas. You know this stuff. We will deal with it.” She tightened her grip around Ellen's waist. “We got a plan. Don't worry.”

Dean's jaw was tensing and his grip on Castiel's hand was like iron. “You know we trust you, but the guy's poison,” he said bluntly.

“I know, sweetheart,” Ellen replied. “Jo's got him under control right now.” She flicked her eyes over at her daughter, who was showing Brady her knife skills with a worryingly large grin on her face that touched her eyes not at all. “We're not going to let him hurt you.”

“It's you I'm worried about,” Dean shot back. “If anything happens he'll sue the shit outta you. And he could destroy your career if he finds out anything he can use against you, Jody, you gotta know that.”

“He can try,” said Jody steadily. “I have a lot more cards up my sleeve than you know about, kiddo. Stay cool. Have a slice of pie.” She swept off in the direction of the luckless Brady, Ellen firmly in tow, and Dean pulled Castiel to the pie with a scowl.

By the time the group photo rolled around Sam had managed to persuade Jess to forgive him, and Brady was left on the sidelines with the other unpopular guests. Castiel found himself front and centre with Dean and the rest of Jody and Bobby's “wayward children”, carefully cocooned against any more harsh words. The small group held pictures of the absent official and unofficial fosters.

Castiel collected the pictures carefully afterwards and presented them to Bobby gravely. “I thought I had lost my family when I came here. Now I find I have three,” He was surprised at his own openness; Crowley's whisky had tipped him over the edge into full intoxication. He whispered, “Yours is my favourite one,” and winked. It took a lot more effort to wink than it should.

Bobby huffed at him, and pulled him into a hug. “You're a good kid, Cas. We always got your back.” He ran a hand over his beard and adjusted his baseball cap. “Go take your boy home. Your job to make him sleep, remember?” He pushed Castiel in Dean's direction gently, and Castiel nodded and focussed carefully on his fiancé. Dean did need his sleep. He had been working very hard, both at the garage and for his exams.

Saying their goodbyes to everyone took time, but Dean led them from group to group with good cheer, finally stopping at the Winchester/Moore party. “We're heading off, Mom, we got a taxi called. We'll see you to drop stuff off before we head north, okay? It was great to see you again, Peter, Eleanor. Have a great time for Christmas.”

“Lovely to see you again too Dean, and congratulations again on your engagement,” Mrs Moore smiled. Mr Moore shook their hands and added his own congratulations, Jessica's wide smile gracing his broad face.

Jess gave them both long hugs and Sam slung his arms around the pair of them. “Have a great Christmas, we'll see you for New Year,” he slurred, eyes glassy. “Good luck with the flight, dude,” he directed at Dean, who grimaced in response.

They clambered into the waiting taxi and went home. Tomorrow would be full of hungover packing and regret, but tonight had been worth it.

 

By the time the plane taxied onto the runway Dean was clutching the armrest so hard his knuckles had turned white, and his grip on Castiel's hand was painful. He was humming Enter Sandman to himself and his eyes were closed.

“Belovèd, you can take the Xanax. You don't have to be awake for this.” Castiel was worried Dean would hyperventilate.

The humming paused. “I'd rather not,” Dean said hoarsely. “The nausea drugs should be enough.” He cracked his eyes open enough to look at Castiel. “I wanna drive us home, and I can't do that if I'm drooling on you and giggling to myself.”

“Half a Xanax then. Fighting phobias is hard, there's no shame in getting some chemical assistance.”

“I will if I can't control it, babe, I swear, but I want to see if I can, okay? I'm not gonna find out how much the anti-emetic helps if I can't stay awake.” Dean had taken the same drug as Jess, in fact, which had amused him endlessly on the flight up to Mother's while he was stoned and, yes, drooling a little.

Castiel kissed him on the cheek. “Alright. But hum something from Master of Puppets, okay? It's a better album.” He had long practice at distracting Dean.

Dean looked at him in outrage, happy to take the bait. “You can't compare the two! Totally different eras! Okay, the melodic stuff was heavily copied, but you can't blame Metallica for other people copying them!”

They had just started to get into the swing of the argument when the woman across the aisle from Dean leaned over. “You should stop holding hands. There are children on this flight. It's disgusting.”

Castiel froze at the hatred in her voice, but Dean scowled at her. “Lady, if I don't hold his hand, I'm gonna start puking. Which would you rather have? I get real careless about sickbags sometimes. Might puke on the floor.” She settled back with a look of disgust. “Yeah, that's what I thought,” Dean snarled. He turned back to Castiel. “Of Wolf and Man might have cheesy lyrics but the guitar is awesome, you gotta give it that.”

This time the bait was dangled for him, and Castiel gratefully resumed the argument, willing himself to calm down again.

The cabin crew began their final checks of the luggage and seats. The woman across the aisle grabbed the steward as she was passing. “Excuse me, could you make those two stop touching each other? I didn't pay for this flight to have to sit next to fags.”

“I'm sorry, Ma'am, that's not our policy,” the steward replied calmly.

“Well, can you move them then? They're infringing on my First Amendment rights to religious freedom.”

“I tell you what, Ma'am, because you put it like that, I'll see what I can do.” The steward headed up the cabin and the woman smirked at Dean and Castiel. Dean was furious, red spots on his cheeks showing his rage, but Castiel could feel himself pale . He hated being involved in confrontations like this; the passengers round about them were staring and muttering to each other.

The crewmember reappeared. “Sirs, if you'll come with me, we have seats in First Class available for you. Could you point out your bags for me?” Dean and Castiel shared a glance and stood, Castiel gathering their jackets and his laptop bag as Dean grabbed their luggage.

“This is outrageous! You should be moving me, not them! What about my emotional distress at seeing these... these perverts!”

“I'm sorry, Ma'am, but this is the only solution we have. You're a party of four, and we only have two seats available. We could move two of you..?” The woman scowled and shook her head, muttering about not leaving her children to be scarred by seeing such unnatural behaviour, and something about God's will that Castiel tried very hard not to listen to.

They were led up the plane to the First Class area, where they were seated near the front. Castiel took the window seat, closing the blind hurriedly so that Dean wouldn't be panicked by the view outside.

“I am so sorry about that, sirs. Please accept the hospitality here as our apology for having to go through that.” The steward looked sincerely apologetic. “We'll report this to the Air Marshall as a precaution, and if there are any more incidents just let us know. We'll be round with complimentary food and drinks as soon as we reach altitude.” She smiled at them, stowed their bags, and left to strap herself in for take-off.

“Well, this is much nicer,” said Castiel carefully.

“Holy shit Cas, I really didn't expect that,” Dean muttered back, taking his hand again. “You doing okay?” He looked searchingly at Castiel.

“It was unpleasant, but I believe the upgrade helped me to get through it,” Castiel replied.

“We still got that Xanax. You take it if you need it, okay?” Dean said earnestly. Castiel nodded with a smile, and they settled back for take-off. Dean started humming Enter Sandman again and closed his eyes.

The plane rose smoothly, and once they had levelled out and the seatbelts light was off the cabin crew came around. First Class had its own dedicated crewmember who had clearly been filled in on the situation, because he spent some time talking to Dean and Castiel both and taking them through the snack options. Dean's appetite was suppressed with the fear, although the anti-emetic was indeed keeping his nausea in check, but Castiel encouraged him to eat what he could. If the drug wore off before they landed, he would feel much more nauseous on an empty stomach.

One of the strange things about food was that terrible food became better if served by friendly staff. The opposite was true as well; years of being dragged to over-priced restaurants had taught him that nothing could spoil a meal like terrible waiting-staff, regardless of the number of Michelin stars on the wall. Airplane food was never good, but the steward who served them was friendly, attentive and funny, and Castiel found himself enjoying his unexpected free lunch.

Dean remained less voracious than normal, but he had relaxed enough to nibble on crackers and tiny packaged cheese, and he laughed when Castiel spilled cheese the temperature of the sun on himself when his hot filled roll exploded. Castiel scowled at him as he mopped it up.

“Never heard you yelp like that before, babe, I didn't think you could reach that high a pitch,” Dean choked out once he managed to regain some control of himself.

“I'm glad you find my pain amusing,” Castiel grumbled. He attempted to clean cheese off his shirt with a wet-wipe. It appeared to have fused to the fabric.

“Aw, don't be like that, you know I love you,” Dean smiled, and nuzzled against him. “God, I needed a laugh like that.” He stretched out and relaxed into his chair.

Good mood, captive audience, two hours before landing: Castiel knew what they would be doing. He pulled the guest list out of his bag and thrust it at Dean before he could flee. “Your punishment for laughing at the cheese volcano. We need to finalise the guest list.” Dean opened his mouth to protest and Castiel quelled him with a glower.

“Oh, fine, I guess if we do it now it'll be done forever. We don't have to work on the seating plan or anything, do we?”

“No, not until all of the dinner guests have RSVP'd. We have months to go before that. Hannah was very firm about sending out save-the-date cards now though.” His sister could be terrifyingly intense when she felt that something was Being Done Wrong, a trait she had inherited from their mother. He and Ezekiel were far more easy-going, although for some reason when he told people that they laughed and then looked worried.

Dean was clearly still in need of distraction, and he focussed his attention on the list with the efficiency and care that made him such an excellent engineer. He produced a table of guests and all of the likely plus-ones, with children where appropriate, and colour-coded the entries so that they could easily see which of the two of them they were most connected with and how they knew them.

Castiel had expected Dean to have far more guests than he did, but in the end it balanced out fairly evenly. He had never had that many friends compared to Dean, social butterfly as he was, but he had kept close to several friends from college and grad school, and his extended family was much larger.

Finally finished, they settled back in for the last half hour of the flight. Dean was growing tense again at the thought of the landing, and Castiel pulled him down to rest on his shoulder, stroking his hair.

“I feel like such a dick,” Dean admitted quietly. “I mean, I know all the math, and the design stuff, and the safety stats. But it still scares me shitless.”

“I once had a panic attack because I ran out of matching paperclips. We can't always rationalise our way out of things. And you're doing really well right now, you have to give yourself credit. You're awake, you're sober, you didn't need the Xanax: that's all amazing progress,” Castiel argued back.

“Yeah, I guess. The no-puking drugs have really helped. I guess the doctor might have been right about it being an ear thing.” Dean had suffered from several intense ear infections as a child, and their family doctor suspected that it might have left him with a heightened sensitivity to changes in air pressure. Combined with general motion sensitivity – Dean was an excellent driver but an unhappy passenger, especially in cramped cars – it made sense that flying would leave him much more vertiginous than most people.

Castiel strongly suspected that “Dean gets sick on flights” had morphed into “Dean's afraid of flying” very early on in family stories, and this had created a feedback loop in Dean's psyche. Many of his own issues came from the casual cruelty of his family; he had no reason to suspect it was any different for Dean.

“The extended leg-room appears to have helped too,” Castiel noted. “I think we should consider not flying coach whenever we can.”

Dean stretched his legs out. “I guess it has at that. Expensive though.”

“We don't fly often. It will be worth it,” Castiel replied. “No price on each other's health and peace of mind, remember?” It was a bargain they had made long ago, although they had each had to remind the other on occasion.

“Yeah, I – okay.” Dean sighed, and closed his eyes as the landing announcement was made. “Tell me when it's over.” He reached over to hold Castiel's other hand. The cabin crew, seating themselves for the landing, all smiled over at them as Castiel pressed a kiss into Dean's temple, and he blushed hotly. He tried to ignore them for the rest of the landing, humming Nothing Else Matters softly to Dean.

The plane touched down with a bump, and the pilot gave the usual thanks to passengers for flying with them, and the cabin crew for doing such a good job. “And finally, a big congratulations on behalf of all of the crew to Castiel Milton and Dean Winchester, who are planning their wedding. Enjoy married life and we hope you consider flying with us again for your honeymoon!” There was a round of applause from the passengers, and Castiel and Dean exchanged wide-eyed looks of confusion and embarrassment.

The small mystery was solved when they were ushered off the plane by the steward. “We wanted to do something more to show our support for you. Bumping you up to First was the least we could do under the circumstances, but we really wanted to show everyone on board that homophobia has no place here.” She ghosted a wink at them and they smiled back and disembarked.

Waiting for their suitcase at the carousel, they caught sight of the woman from across the aisle. Castiel tensed against any further bile spewed their way, but Dean stayed calm and steady at his side, stretching his long limbs out with a faint smile and a wrestler's poise, and she left with nothing more than a dirty look. Behind her back, the elder of her children mouthed “Sorry” at them both, and the younger gave a tiny wave.

“See that? She's not gonna spread her bigotry to her kids. Our kids won't have to go through what you went through.” Dean kissed him, and then swore and ran after their suitcase, catching it just before it was pulled back in for another turn. He returned triumphantly and not a little smugly. “Let's go home, babe. I got plans for you this evening,” he said with a leer. Castiel laughed, and relaxed, and allowed himself to be chauffeured home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's commentary: Benromach is very nice, for a Speyside. I'm an Islay fan myself. Give me heavy peat and the faint whisper of the ocean any day. (Seriously, please do. I like Jura the best.) Glen Craig stopped distilling in the early 80s apparently, which means that Crowley in the show is drinking 35 year-old Scotch - it tastes like nectar at that sage. Very, very alcoholic nectar.
> 
> My Dean being a bad traveller headcanon at the end there comes out of personal experience, family stories, and logic. I had loads of ear infections as a kid, and my ears are really bad at adjusting to changes in air pressure to this day. And I have an aunt who threw up on every road in the country but is completely fine when driving. Brains are funny about travel sickness.


	6. January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: off-camera self-violence, and description of the aftermath. As always, if you have any questions or concerns about this my askbox is always open on [tumblr](http://knittedgauntlets.tumblr.com).

Mary had put on a lavish spread for Dean's birthday meal, and the table was full of food; she seemed to be trying to make up for the absence of her first-born at Christmas. Room had been made for Bobby and Jody as well, although the table was barely able to hold eight plates with all of the dishes that were out.

“...And then they bumped us up to First Class, which was awesome, lotta leg room and big seats, and we got a voucher sent for money off our next flight. I think they want us to talk about it to all of our gay friends so they all fly with them too. So I told Charlie. She's tweeted it everywhere I think. I'm sure they're happy with the free advertising.”

“That was very generous of them, dear,” Mary commented absently as she made sure everyone's plates were full.

“I guess we were pretty lucky about who was on staff that day. But it was real nice for people to stand up for us, you know? I mean, she could have complained about them, made their jobs harder, but they still, you know, protected us from anything else she might've said.” Dean didn't look anywhere near Sam when he said it, but Castiel heard it for the pointed commentary that it was.

Sam, however, didn't seem to notice. “First Class must have been wasted on you. How many times did you puke this time?”

“None,” Dean said through a mouthful of food. “Doc gave me the same drugs Jess is on. I didn't feel sick at all.” He smiled cheerily and carefully loaded another enormous pile of food onto his fork for his next bite: honey roast ham, some kind of bourbon and honey sauce that Castiel was contemplating drinking through a straw, two different kinds of potatoes and a single green bean balanced on top of it all. Then his belovèd gracefully and delicately shoved the whole thing into his face and chewed enthusiastically. “Iff iss weawwy goo, M'm,” Dean said indistinctly. Mary and Castiel shared a fond eye-roll.

“Wish the drugs worked that well for me,” said Jess with a sigh, looking at her small portion of meat and mash sadly. “I miss food.” She had regained some of the weight that she had lost, but compared to her increasing stomach the rest of her still looked so thin as to be skeletal.

Jody looked over with sympathy. “How are the hospital appointments going?”

“Okay. Dr Messor managed to get my insurance to pay for food supplements, so that my calorie intake can get up high enough to start putting on weight. The baby's growing okay but she's on the small side, especially considering the height of Sam and I.” Jess ate with determination but no real enthusiasm.

Bobby's eyes on her were sharp. “You look after yerself, you hear me? First sign of anythin' funny, and I do mean anything, you go straight to the hospital. No takin' unnecessary risks.” Bobby had told Dean and Castiel once about his wife, when they had gone to collect him from the drunk tank after an anniversary bender gone awry. She had died of undiagnosed eclampsia in late pregnancy, taking their baby with her. He was increasingly nervous around Jess as the pregnancy wore on, although he tried hard to hide it behind a mask of fond grumpiness and terrible baseball caps.

“I will, don't worry,” Jess smiled at him; she wasn't in the know about Bobby's family history, but she got on well with him and was clearly happy to humour him.

“You enjoyed spending time with your in-laws, son?” John had not had a very good relationship with the Campbells when they were alive, always butting heads with the patriarch, and the Campbell cousins rarely spent time with the Winchesters.

“Yeah, Hannah and Zeke are great, and Naomi thinks the sun shines outta my ass,” Dean said. “Dunno why, I'm not her kind of people at all.”

“Being the instrument of reconciliation between her and her first-born plays a part. And she very much admires your work ethic and academic achievements,” Castiel commented.

“She seemed to really like you at the dinner we went to in November, it was great to see,” Jody said.

“Yeah, didn't she pay for that too? Food, flights, wedding, you've really landed yourself a great one there Dean.” Sam's face was sour with envy, and Jess scowled at him.

Castiel bristled. “She uses money as a means of controlling people, something I would have thought you would be very familiar with in your workplace,” he snapped. “Dean's “good fortune” in this regard comes with considerable strings attached. Her generosity ceases the instant her ire is earned, believe you me.”

Dean shot him a concerned look and brushed their shoulders together before turning his attention back to Sam. “The meal was so she could get to know all of us, and the flights were our Christmas presents. The wedding stuff is her wedding present. Not that it's not generous as hell, but she's not exactly funding our lavish lifestyle.”

“You had a trust fund though, right?” Sam persisted, returning his attention to Castiel. “Must have been nice not to have to worry about scholarships.”

“I did. One which she withdrew once she realised I would not be taking over the family business. I survived college and grad school on scholarships, loans, and a lucrative career as a male stripper.” The table went totally silent and everyone's attention was on him; Jody had a forkful of food frozen before her lips, eyes wide and speculative. “I'm joking. I was a cocktail waiter at a high-end bar.”

“Damnit,” Dean said with feeling. “I really wanted to believe that.”

“I feel like that's the sort of thing that would have come up by now,” Jody said wistfully.

“Let's... not talk about this,” Mary said faintly. John and Sam, the only people in the room with no aesthetic appreciation of the male form, nodded their agreement; Bobby snorted into his beer but otherwise agreed.

The conversation finally moved on, derailed absolutely from Sam's inspection of Castiel's finances, which Castiel had intended. He had learned the trick of conversational hand-grenades from his cousin Gabriel, although he used it rarely. Dean stared at him contemplatively while he ate his way through his second helping of dinner, however.

Mary turned round to Sam with a smile. “Did Tyson manage to get the neighbour problem resolved?”

“Yeah, he threatened to sue them and mentioned his success rate and they moved out. No more weeknight parties.”

“Well, that's good, it sounded like a very distressing situation.”

“Who's Tyson?” Castiel wondered.

“Brady,” Dean said shortly. He stabbed his fork into a small mound of beans and ate them belligerently.

“He's a very nice young man,” said Mary, frowning at Dean's tone. “I know you don't see eye-to-eye, but he was nothing but polite to us over Christmas, wasn't he John?”

John was evidently more reserved about Brady than his wife was, always more suspicious of people in general than Mary was. “Sure, he was nice enough. Likes the sound of his own voice though.”

“Wait, you saw him at Christmas? I thought you were having a family meal?” Dean looked uncertainly between Sam and Jess. Jess looked apologetic, but Sam brushed over her tentative start.

“Don't get your panties in a bunch, Dean, you were going up to stay in the Hamptons or wherever. Brady's practically family anyway. We're gonna ask him to be godfather, right Jess?”

Jessica looked at her husband in confusion. “We are? I don't remember that.”

“You must have been half-asleep then, I'm sure I mentioned it after Christmas,” Sam said dismissively. Jess frowned into her plate. “He's a great friend, he deserves to be officially part of the family.”

Jody looked like she wanted to speak, but Bobby spoke first. “You got any more of this sauce, Mary? I can't get enough of it. You gotta give us the recipe, Alex'll love it.”

“Of course, there's more on the stove,” Mary said proudly, coming back into the kitchen with another jug of deliciousness and the recipe, which she handed to Jody. Castiel made an abortive move towards the jug, ceding first dibs to Bobby in honour of his diplomatic efforts. Bobby shivered a wink at him as he handed it over. With a happy sigh, Castiel poured a small lake of sauce over the remains of his ham and roast potatoes, grabbing a roll to mop up the excess.

He looked up to find Dean watching him with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah, I'm the one in this relationship that has a problem with sweet things and good food. For sure, Cas.”

Castiel scowled. “I would never accuse you of such a thing,” he said haughtily. He licked a fallen droplet of sauce from his chin absently; Dean's eyes followed the movement of his tongue, darkening slightly as his pupils dilated.

“Oh, my God,” Sam said with exaggerated disgust. “This is what I meant about the eye-sex. You guys really need to stop it.”

“Oh, like I've never heard any of you doing it,” Dean scoffed. “Sorry, Mom. But I have.” Mary flushed the same shade as Dean did when he was embarrassed, a fetching shade of scarlet against the fair skin they shared, and busied herself with pouring more wine for everyone who was drinking it; John laughed and gave Bobby and Jody a thumbs-up.

“That's not the point, Dean,” Sam complained, but against the general merriment he sounded less like the voice of moral authority he was clearly trying to be and more like the annoyed younger brother he was.

Mary and Dean tidied away the dinner dishes as Bobby and Castiel fought politely over the last of the honey bourbon sauce. By the time they had managed to sate themselves and finish the jug, Dean had resumed his place and was waiting for the birthday pie eagerly. Castiel cleared his and Bobby's remnants and slipped Mary the pack of indoor sparklers he had purchased; they speared the pie through with them all and lit them with a pass of the kitchen blowtorch.

Dean's face when he saw the pie coming towards him made the secrecy all the more worthwhile, lighting up as brightly as the sparklers themselves. They forbore to sing to him – it wasn't actually his birthday, after all – but they all toasted him.

Once everyone had been served and was digging in – most of the table had opted for ice-cream, but Castiel had sliced himself some sharp cheddar to top the apple pie, which Jody had also partaken of – Dean cleared his throat.

“So, uh, I actually have an announcement for you guys,” he said, holding Castiel's hand tightly. “I've applied for MIT next semester. If I get in we'll be moving up to Boston after the wedding.” He smiled round the table nervously.

The table fell silent again. “MIT?” Sam scoffed. “Isn't that a little out of your league?”

“I thought you'd decided to give up on that college nonsense, after the first time,” John said.

Dean and Castiel shared a tense look, but Bobby was the one who stepped in. “He quit last time to help your sorry ass out when you were in hospital, that's why he started working for me. And he's been doing this for years now. That's why he only works for me part-time. Don't you idjits pay any attention to him?”

Mary looked like she was putting some things together but had up until now been out of the loop. Not again, Castiel thought. Not this too.

“I – I knew you had been thinking about it a few years ago, but I thought you'd decided against it because of the money,” Mary said, her eyes darting between Bobby's irritation and Dean's tension. Jody murmured something in Bobby's ear and he threw up his hands in annoyance but settled back into his chair. Jess was confused, looking between the Winchesters with some alarm.

“Then, yeah,” Dean replied tightly. “We needed more money because Sam didn't pick up one scholarship that year.”

“That wasn't my fault, my Ethics professor had it in for me,” Sam grumbled, a familiar and long-running complaint.

“And I was happy to help out, no question. I did classes when I could afford it for a couple years and they were happy to transfer the credits, along with my old grades, once I sat a few tests and did them some papers. It was really great of them, Cas helped organise it.” He gave Castiel a small but genuine smile.

“You know they were happy to have you back,” Castiel smiled. “The Head of Department still remembered Dean from a decade ago and was really happy to see him come back to Engineering. She even arranged some tuition scholarships.”

“Yeah, Prof Visyak is awesome,” Dean agreed. Bobby smiled in misty memory and Jody smacked him on the arm with a scowl; Bobby's relationship with the Professor was long over, but Bobby enjoyed gently winding Jody up with tales of his past exploits, and she enjoyed being wound up by him. Castiel tried not to think about it too closely.

“Well, that's great news, isn't it honey?” Mary said brightly.

“Still not sure why you'd want to add to your debt but whatever makes you happy,” John said. Dean's hand tightened on Castiel's.

“Actually, Dad, I've had a full ride since being back at KU. I only had to pay for the community college credits and that was over a few years ago.”

“That's where we met,” Jody chimed in. “Gave Dean a lift back to Bobby's one night after class, and the rest is history.” She smiled at Bobby, who kissed her ostentatiously.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sorry to inflict that display of grossness on the world,” he grumbled.

“You love it,” Jody teased back. “All of that fake retching just spurs us on, you know that.”

“It was nearly real retching that time in the yard,” Dean started, before shrinking away from Bobby's scowl with a laugh.

“Shuddup, boy, or I'll dock yer hours. Or, hell, increase them, give you less time for them fancy equations.”

Dean was relaxing into the familiar teasing when Sam spoke again. “So, what, you're transferring over to MIT to finish your degree?”

“Uh, no, I applied for a post-grad,” Dean said. “I'm finishing this year. June, actually. Finishing a couple math and physics classes this semester and doing my graduate project and thesis.”

“You're going for a doctorate? Little ambitious, isn't it?” The weight of Sam's scorn was a physical force, which pushed Dean up from his chair and out of the room before anyone realised what was happening.

Castiel was white with rage, but it was Bobby's frown that Sam blanched at. “He's been workin' for this for six years, you asshole, and he's the best damn engineer in his class. Don't even try to take this away from him.” He took a deep breath. “I know you like to think of yerself as the smart one but you really ain't. Not if that's how you treat yer own damn brother.” He got up and followed Dean.

“I mean, come on, it's Dean,” Sam sputtered. “He hated all that when he was at college, right Mom? He just got in on a wrestling scholarship.”

“Well, I don't really remember,” Mary began, but Castiel interrupted her.

“Even if that had been true then, Dean is allowed to change and grow as a person.” His voice was low and furious. “Perhaps you should try it sometime.” He turned his attention to the rest of the table. “I find myself suddenly unwell. I am going to get Dean to take me home. Thank you for the lovely food.”

He could hear the arguing beginning behind him as he left the room, but right now his priority was Dean. He found him in the upstairs bathroom, Bobby talking quietly through the door to him.

“You gotta know this ain't on you, boy, it's on them. Come on out. Yer fiancé's here to take you home.”

The door opened. Dean had a towel wrapped around his hand and the mirrored cabinet over the sink was broken. His eyes were dull when they slid over Castiel's face, refusing to hold his gaze. “I gotta apologise for breaking the cupboard before we go.”

Bobby looked sourly at him. “I'll do it. You get that x-rayed, you hear me? Insurance'll cover it.” Blood was seeping through the towel in places. Bobby sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “Come on, princess, don't make me get Jody.”

Dean nodded blankly, and followed Castiel down the stairs and into the car. Castiel could feel himself trembling slightly with the effort of holding in his anger, and he pulled over after a few blocks to catch his breath and regain some calm.

“I'm sorry,” Dean said softly. “Shouldn't've punched the mirror. Should just have kept my stupid mouth shut.” He heaved a sigh that was closer to a sob. “Now they're gonna ask you all those questions again, and I'll have to take time off work. I'm so sorry, Cas. If you don't wanna come in with me I'll be fine on my own.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Castiel grated out, trying very hard not to snap at him. “Of course I'm coming with you.” He took a deep, shaky breath, and breathed out slowly. “I love you. You have nothing to apologise for. I'm not angry at you. Let's get your hand patched up before any further self-recriminating.” He tried to smile at Dean, but could only manage a twitch of his lips; Dean couldn't even muster that, but he nodded, and they drove to the hospital.

 

After a week of avoidance, Castiel had finally had enough of Dean's absences. When he received the expected text message cancelling lunch - sry babe got 2 work over lunch hand is making me slow - he sighed, got a box of lunch bagels and one of donuts, and drove to the garage.

Dean was in his overalls bent over the engine of a modern-looking car that Castiel could'nt immediately identify. Bobby was watching him with his arms folded, lips pursed against Dean's ranting.

“...it's not that I think he's right, Bobby, but he kinda has a point. MIT is a big deal. Someone like me doesn't really belong there.”

Castiel and Bobby exchanged looks as Bobby grabbed a bagel. “Don't go sabotagin' yerself, boy. Eleanor told me how good you were doin' last time I saw her. She thinks you belong there.”

Dean snorted. “She's just saying that to be nice.” He tightened a bolt awkwardly with his left hand. “You gonna give me a hand here or just watch?”

“Thought we would watch,” said Bobby calmly. “You make a pretty picture, princess. Makes lunch go down real smooth.”

Dean swung around to scowl at him and caught sight of Castiel. The scowl left his face, but there was still tension in his body. “You didn't need to bring anything, Cas,” he said. “But, uh, thanks.”

“I am well aware that I did not need to do this. I wanted to.” Castiel wiped a table down and sat on it, fishing out a halloumi bagel and taking a large bite.

“What, you want to spend you lunch hour in a smelly garage and get covered in grease?” Dean was being particularly pleasant today. This conversation would be a joy to have. Castiel rolled his eyes and didn't bother trying to hide it.

"Idjit," Bobby muttered. Dean had the grace to look ashamed of himself but didn't unbend enough to apologise. He walked over to the sink to wash his hands carefully. It took him a lot longer than normal, but he finally stripped off the glove that was protecting his bandaged right hand and walked over to them.

"Not going to get out of this, am I," he grumbled. He helped himself to a bagel and started eating it with less than his usual appetite.

"Nope," said Bobby. Castiel shook his head. They waited for Dean to crack in silence.

"Ugh, fine," Dean huffed. "What do you want me to say? That I'm pissed at all of them? That I can't stop thinking about it? That I'm, what, feelin' betrayed like some sort of teenage girl?"

"Well, yer acting like one right now, so if the cap fits..." Bobby started, but he stopped and ran a hand through his hair, a clear indication of serious thinking. "Look, I'll say what I did when you were sixteen. It's okay to be pissed. It ain't yer fault. This ain't on you. "

Dean grunted in response, and Castiel stepped in. "You know I'll support you in whatever you want to do, but I want you to seriously consider what's best for you and not what you think they want you to do. And right now I don't know what you're thinking at all."

"I just... You know, for once, I'd love to see them take my side instead of Sam's. You know both Mom and Dad have left me voicemails about how I should forgive him for being a jerk and that he didn't mean it?" Dean gestured to his silenced phone. "Nothing from wonderboy himself though," he added bitterly.

Bobby sucked in a breath through his teeth. "None of the answers're easy here, boy. You gotta decide where to draw the line."

"I thought I had, after the engagement announcement. But now..." Dean spread his hands helplessly. "How do I keep getting into this? I shoulda been able to keep it together on Saturday."

"Dean. I did not spend the better part of two decades in therapy to think that you are correct in blaming yourself for getting upset in the face of considerable provocation. You got yourself out of the situation and said nothing to inflame it further. You conducted yourself with far more dignity than I would have done." Castiel took a measured breath. "Further, whilst your actions in the immediate aftermath were self-destructive to a high degree and did worry me, the fact remains that you have avoided many of the traps you have fallen into in the past. You need to give yourself credit for that."

"Oh yeah, give myself credit for not being a total drunken fuck-up, what a low bar," Dean jeered.

"I still do that," Bobby said, and Dean fell silent. "I go out an' get hammered when the anniversaries are piling up and the kids are taking more'n they give. Changin' yerself is hard work, and I'm damn proud of you for punching a cupboard 'stead of starting a fight after drinkin' a bottle of Jack. It ain't an easy thing you've done, and you've made it stick, and that's real impressive."

"Well, I - I mean I wouldn't've been able to do it without the two of you, and Charlie and Benny, so it's not all on me," Dean mumbled, but it was progress, and Castiel was happy to back off on this point for now.

"Is there anything else, belovèd? While you have a captive audience?" Castiel handed Bobby a donut and they stared at Dean expectantly over their first mouthfuls.

Dean looked uncomfortably between the two of them. "No, I ... well, I guess, uh..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "You really think I wasn't, you know, over-reacting?"

"I told Sam he should try bettering himself after you left the room, and then I stalked out," Castiel said round a mouthful of donut.

"I called him an asshole. Right in front of yer folks. You didn't over-react, son. You reacted just fine," Bobby said emphatically.

"But Mom and Dad..."

"They ain't seeing it your way right now because Sam's been pitching a fit for a week. They'll come around. Me an' Jody got Ellen on it." Bobby took another donut, this one chocolate-cake with bacon sprinkles, and moaned around the mouthful. “Holy hell Cas, I gotta get more of these,” he exclaimed. Dean's eyes lit up and he made a beeline for the box, taking one of the others.

“Cas always gets the good stuff,” Dean said proudly. “He's got great taste.”

Castiel had finally reached a point in his life where he could comfortably take a compliment instead of either brushing it off as part of his duties or responding to it awkwardly and unenthusiastically. “Yes, my taste in all things is impeccable. Bagels, donuts, men...”

Dean ducked his head and grumbled a little as Bobby laughed. “Set yerself up for that one but good, y'idjit. You feelin' better now? Got it outta yer system?”

“I – yes. I'm good. Sorry for being all,” Dean waved his bad hand around vaguely, “pissy an' shit. I'm gonna work on it, I swear. Gotta stop taking crap out on you two,” he added with a self-deprecating smile.

“We can take it. You ain't gonna get rid of us so easy,” Bobby said firmly.

Castiel nodded and looked earnestly at Dean. “The only reason it bothers me is because you're so clearly hurting when you retreat like this, but you won't let anyone help. I have a reasonably high tolerance for people being “pissy and shit”. Ask Hannah if you don't believe me.” Dean sniggered at his use of air-quotes, but he met Castiel's eyes and gave him a small nod of acknowledgement.

“Time to work,” Bobby grunted as his other employees began trickling in. “Get back to yer students, Cas. Make 'em learn somethin' useful.”

Castiel nodded, stole another bagel, and kissed Dean deeply. “I'll be home by six,” Dean promised in a whisper.

 

He kept his word, arriving in the house five minutes after Castiel had. He brought with him a large bag of supplies for dinner and a carefully wrapped package which he thrust at Castiel with a worried smile. “For you. For putting up with me this last week. You shouldn't've had to do that today. I'm really sorry for being such a dick about it all, I swear.”

Castiel opened it carefully and uncovered a small lavender plant in a pot decorated with bees. He inhaled the scent deeply. “It's beautiful, Dean. Thank you. But you don't need to apologise to me,” he said earnestly. “I know you. You do this sometimes, and it annoys me, but you do it for good reasons and you only do it when there's something really wrong. You don't have to apologise for wanting to protect me. I just wish you would believe that there is nothing to protect me from,” he finished in a low voice.

Dean swallowed, and busied himself organising the grocery shopping. He cleared his throat before speaking. “I swear I'm trying, Cas. I promise I am. And I can usually remember but it's uh... it's hard to put it into practice. 'Specially with family stuff.”

“I know you're trying, Dean,” Castiel said gently, placing his gift on the table. He walked over behind Dean and put his arms around him, trying to express his sincerity through touch. “I'm sorry that we pushed you today. I know you hate it.”

Dean relaxed slowly, putting his own arms over Castiel's. “You were right to. I was all kinds of tangled up in my head. Sometimes I need the push, I do know that.” The awful tension of the past week was slowly bleeding out of his voice, leaving him sounding raw and hurting. “Couldn't do this without you, Cas,” he murmured, tipping his head to rest their cheeks together.

“You'll never have to. Not while there's any of me left in this world.”

They stood in silence for a moment, holding and being held, until Dean cleared his throat and clapped his hands together brightly. “Okay! Enough chick-flick moments for tonight. I got some beef to wellington, and some veg to prep, and some wine to let breathe. You go put your new bee-lure on the window with the rest of them and put your feet up 'til this is done, 'kay?”

“Yes, dear,” Castiel smiled. “Although technically “Wellington” isn't a verb -”

Dean captured his mouth in a deep kiss. “I know. Ain't gonna stop me from saying it though. Go let me take care of you.”

Castiel nodded solemnly, and spent the next half hour introducing the new plant to the rest of his small bee-garden, wintering inside the flat, and making sure it was settled in nicely. Dean didn't laugh at him once, although Castiel caught him shooting fond smiles over his shoulder occasionally.

Introductions made, Castiel settled in to read over some course materials and make notes on anything in his lectures which needed updated. He was halfway through writing a paper on ethical considerations in manufacturing environmentally friendly personal transportation, intending to publish as soon as it was complete, but he needed to stay on top of his classwork as well.

The smells from the oven wafted through the open-plan apartment, and he was eventually forced to concede defeat, abandoning his pile of journals with a sigh. Dean was pouring him a glass of wine before he had finished clearing his things away from the table. He murmured his thanks and stretched his shoulders out with a groan.

Dean set the table, threatening Castiel with a fork when he attempted to help, and brought over a plate of light starters for them to share. Amuse-bouches, technically, none of them larger than a single mouthful, all of them delicate and fun. Dean only showed this skill off to Castiel and Charlie, too shy and afraid of mockery to display it to anyone else. Their loss was Castiel's gain; Dean regularly found recipes he wanted to try out, and nearly every meal he cooked was accompanied by tiny exquisite delicacies.

He had managed to master making macarons recently, and made them a quarter of their normal size, filled with simple but well-chosen morsels. He was still working his way up to tiny burgers; Castiel feared for their waistlines when Dean finally managed it.

They talked about nothing and everything until the plate was finished. Dean cleared the plate away, only allowing Castiel to pour more wine, and brought out the Beef Wellington, with a tray of mixed vegetables and some stuffed mushrooms to go with it. The beef was timed to perfection, nearly rare in the centre but with a crisp golden crust which flaked as soon as it was breathed on.

“Perfect,” Castiel pronounced. Dean coloured slightly but smiled at him.

“So, I was thinking,” he started. “I really don't think I'm gonna get into MIT. But I do wanna keep going with academic research for a while before going corporate. I have some ideas that just don't fit in corporate stuff yet, but if I can prove that they work, then I should be able to make a job out of it somewhere.”

His confidence might have taken a knock last week, but his ambitions was still intact, at least. “I think that's a great idea. Have you thought about where else to apply to?”

“Yeah, Prof Visyak gave me a list and I'm gonna make a start this weekend. You wanna take a look? I figure, with your résumé, you should be able to find somewhere close to wherever I end up, but you'll know better about that than me.”

“I can always take a book contract, or do more corporate seminars,” Castiel said reassuringly, although he hid a wince at the thought of doing more ethics courses for companies which cared less than nothing about ethics. This was important to Dean; his own career would not be harmed by this.

“Yeah, and – I mean, if we go down the adoption route it'll look better if we have more hours at home between us.” Dean looked awkward suddenly. “I'm sorry, I shoulda talked more about it. I know this isn't ideal for your career or anything. I don't want you to shoot yourself in the foot because I have some fancy ideas that might not work.”

“A version of this has been the game plan for three years now,” Castiel replied. “I'm happy to go wherever you want. Obviously I'd be happier if we end up somewhere with a nice climate, good local amenities and a liberal population, but I've survived Kansas for ten years, I can probably cope with anywhere.”

“Hey, Kansas is great,” Dean objected, a Kansan born and bred. “But yeah, that would all be neat to have.” He took another thick slice of beef. “I guess I should thank Mom and Dad and Sam for making this easier, huh? Everyone else has given me their blessing to go off the back of that.” He snorted his disgust and took a large mouthful of wine.

“You'll miss them,” Castiel said. He reached over and took Dean's hand.

“Yeah, but they won't miss me,” Dean sighed. He shook his head slightly. “It is what it is, I guess. I got plenty people here to come back to.”

“They will miss you, I'm sure,” Castiel replied carefully. “Although they might not realise how much they will until you're gone.”

Dean met his eyes, pain and grief visible on his face. “Yeah. But I gotta go, don't I.” It wasn't a question.

“I can't make this decision for you,” Castiel warned. “It has to be yours alone. But I can't see things changing with your family,” he sighed.

“I can sort of see them not knowing we were together. Heteronormative goggles and all, and we were friends first, and we don't really act couple-y all the time. But the college thing was – I mean I talk about it all the time! Mom's met me on campus! She actually said that she thought I was just hanging around there all the time because you were lonely, can you believe that?” Dean was getting angry, stabbing a piece of roast carrot so hard it fell apart.

“Well, I can believe that she thought it, yes,” Castiel admitted. “That doesn't explain why she believed it in the first place.”

Dean scrubbed his face and had a glass of water. “I'm still working my way through all this,” he admitted. “It's gonna take me a while, Cas, and I'm probably gonna be a dick about it again.”

“By all means feel free to keep making it up to me with new plants and good food,” Castiel replied with a wink. “I meant what I said earlier. I know how this works for you. I'll be here when you're ready.”

“The longer I shut you out, the harder it is to let you back in. I'm gonna try harder in future,” Dean vowed. “I mean it. I'm not gonna let things get to where they were a couple years back. You got my word on that. Feel free to turn up at work with bagels and donuts again if you have to. Although if you wanna do that anyway, Bobby'll be eternally grateful,” he added wryly. “He didn't stop going on about those bacon ones all afternoon, I think Ellen and Jody are gonna kill him if he keeps it up tonight.”

“Date night?”

Dean rolled his eyes and nodded, starting to clear the table. “Some Italian place that just opened up. And then the Roadhouse, if you wanna join them later.”

“Actually, I was thinking we could run a bath, and then you could fuck me in it,” Castiel said bluntly. “Then Dr Sexy and ice-cream. And then your turn.”

“That works instead,” Dean agreed. “Make sure to lay down towels though, Downstairs Daryl wasn't happy last time.” He took the plates to the kitchen and started storing the leftovers for later. “Get the bath on, I'll be there in five,” he grinned over his shoulder. Castiel grabbed the wine and started stripping with a smile. Their families might be stressful and hurtful, but they always had each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Muffin inspiration comes from Ltleflrt's [Kiss the Baker](http://archiveofourown.org/series/244045), which was one of the fics that got me back into fanfic and you should totally read it if you haven't already.
> 
> I'm not sure if Beef Wellington is particularly well-known outside of the UK; it's basically a chunk of beef wrapped in pastry. A lot of our national dishes revolve around chunks of meat, pastry, and potatoes. We need the padding to deal with the wind.


	7. Spring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for emetophobia, non-graphic but in camera. I don't know why this happened so many times, I swear. I hate puking.

Dean brought another plate of nachos over to the coffee table. “These are the really hot ones, so watch out Charlie,” he warned. The plate was piled high with chips and chilli, jalapeños scattered liberally on top and cheese dripping through the whole thing. Castiel's mouth watered and he dived in before the plate was even on the table.

“You people all have asbestos mouths,” Charlie grumbled. Jo laughed at her fondly, and Charlie stuck her tongue out. She had managed to combine a nearby convention with a visit to Lawrence, and had come over for a night of card games, computer games, and reminiscing.

After an hour of watching Jo and Dean go to increasingly elaborate lengths to sabotage the other, Halo was banned for the rest of the night. Charlie's old Wii was charging the controllers up; Castiel genuinely feared for his safety when Mario Kart was unleashed. He was hoping that they would concentrate their efforts on Charlie rather than each other, which would leave him free to steal victory from under their noses.

Assuming he survived the crossfire, of course. Knives had also been banned for the night, but Jo was just as lethal with forks.

In the meantime they were snacking on a long and protracted dinner of finger food and beer, and Charlie was trying to persuade them to play Cards Against Humanity.

“I got rid of all of the really gross cards and added in some new ones. Come on guys, it'll be fun!” She bounced up and down a little.

“C'mon, Charlie, I'm eating right now. I can't eat nachos and play cards at the same time,” Dean complained. Some chilli and cheese slipped off his nacho and onto his shirt. “Sonovabitch,” he scowled, scooping it back onto the nacho and eating it before pulling the shirt off. He looked around at the trio of mildly disgusted faces. “What?”

“I guess we could talk about something instead,” Charlie said slyly. “Like, oh, say, the stag party.”

“Or the wedding,” Jo chimed in.

“Have you decided on a colour-scheme yet? You have to pick something that goes with my complexion. Royalty needs to look good.”

“Or flowers? Those can be expensive.” Jo was starting to get interested instead of just winding up Dean.

“Or music?”

“Yes, yes, no,” Castiel recited, trying to stop the barrage before it went any further.

“She means for the wedding marches,” Dean said. “We have that, yeah, but we're not telling you. You're gonna have to wait like everyone else. We've got some ideas about the flowers but we're still putting it together.”

“Colours will be green for Dean and blue for me,” Castiel said. “We're doing a thing with ribbons during the ceremony. Symbolism, you know.”

“Oooh, nice touch. Plus I look fabulous in those,” Charlie grinned. “So does Jo.” She winked at Jo, who blushed in response and refused to meet anyone's eyes for a moment. “Are you having a joint stag then?”

“If you don't mind organising it,” Castiel said cautiously. “My best man is flying in from France, and Meg said she would rather eat her own liver than try to organise anything like this.”

Dean rolled his eyes. He was reluctantly fond of Meg, although it had taken a while for their relationship to progress beyond sarcasm and sneering jealousy. “Given the timing it's going to have to be a couple of days before the wedding, so it can't get too crazy. And it has to cater to non-nerds as well as you, Charlie, so don't go thinking about larping.”

She pouted at him but looked thoughtful. “Some kind of small Ren Faire maybe? There's gotta be one nearby. That gives loads of options. Plus Cas is super funny when he gets into the mead.”

“We're having mead at the wedding, so that might tie-in,” Castiel said absently, taking the dips into the kitchen space for refilling.

“Ren Faires are full of other people though, we'd get split up,” Jo objected. Charlie looked disappointed but started suggesting other things. Paint-balling was vetoed by Dean on the grounds that blue and green were supposed to the worn as silk ties, not as bruises, but laser-tag was still on the table as a posibility.

Castiel left them to it while he tidied around the kitchen. A knock on the door interrupted his flow, and he waved Dean back down as he dried his hands and answered it.

Jess stood in front of him, looking strange and awkward. Castiel couldn't read her face, usually so open and expressive. One hand was curled tightly around her belly. “Um, Cas, I um... I don't, um..”

A shout from the couch interrupted her. “No roller disco!” from two voices, followed by an “Aw...” from Charlie.

“Oh, God, you're busy, I'm so sorry, I'll just, I'll get out of your way, I'm so sorry,” Jess stammered.

“Don't be silly, it's just Jo and Charlie,” Castiel said quickly, worried by the lost look that had appeared in her eyes. Behind the door he snapped his fingers to attract Dean's attention. “Please, come in. We have plenty of room.”

“I couldn't, really, I don't want to interrupt your plans. I'm – I'm sorry. This was... I'm sorry.” She started turning to leave and Castiel abandoned the door to take her hand gently.

“Jessica, please,” he said quietly. “What's wrong? What do you need?” Jess shook her head but made no further movement. She was trembling slightly.

Dean appeared round the door with a broad smile, which slid off his face when he saw the tension in her face. “Jess? Everything okay?”

Jess took one look at him and burst into tears, the sort of helpless ugly crying that cannot be controlled. Castiel and Dean exchanged an alarmed look and led her carefully into the apartment. Jo, more observant than Charlie, had already started clearing a space for her on the couch, and between them they managed to get Jess seated.

It took five minutes before she was coherent enough to talk, and Castel suspected it was only because she had become too exhausted to continue. Charlie was hovering awkwardly in the kitchen after clearing up the strong-smelling food on Jo's murmured orders, and Dean's collar was wet with tears where Jess had been leaning on him.

“Do you need us to call anyone? Sam, your mom?” he asked once the sobbing had stopped.

“Not Sam!” Jess blurted out, sudden fury in her face. “God, not Sam. No, I just – I need a place to stay and Dr Messor says I shouldn't be alone overnight in case anything happens with the baby or the hyperemesis, and all of my family are in California, and I didn't know where else to go. All of my work friends are, well. Work friends.”

“You can stay here for as long as you need,” Castiel said sturdily.

“I – I don't think I can,” Jess replied lowly. “If he finds out I came here he'll use it against me somehow.”

“Who? You need me to stab someone for you?” Jo asked seriously.

Jess glanced at Dean, a curious expression of fear, regret and sorrow in her face. “I guess drawing this out will be harder,” she muttered to herself, scrubbing her face with a tissue. “Sam wants a divorce. He's got custody paperwork started so I can't leave the state.” Her eyes were bleak.

“Can he do that?” Charlie wondered.

“Evidently so,” Jess said grimly. “I read the injunction. I just... Why? Why like this?”

Jo pulled a bottle of whiskey from her bag and passed it to Jess, who looked at it regretfully and shook her head. “I can't. But thanks for the thought.”

“One drink won't hurt the baby,” Jo objected. “Mom drank a bottle of stout every day for her entire pregnancy with me, and I'm fine.” She glared round the room daring anyone to demur. “She needed the iron, she got really anaemic and her insurance was screwing her around.”

“It's not that,” Jess said dully. “If they can prove I've done anything wrong they can use it to prove I'm an unfit mother and get full custody.”

The look of hurt confusion cleared from Dean's face as he focussed his attention fully on Jess. “We gotta make sure that doesn't happen, then,” he said simply. Charlie, can you phone Jody and see if she knows anyone who would lease a room to Jess and be prepared to do hospital stuff if necessary? Donna, maybe? She's a cop, she's gotta be a good character witness if Jess needs it.”

“You can stay with me and Mom until then,” Jo offered. “She snores pretty loudly though, I'm warning you now.”

Jess smiled faintly. “That would be great,” she said quietly.

“Pretty sure my skill-set shouldn't be utilised here,” Charlie sighed. “Oh! But I can keep track of where Sam is if you wanna avoid him. And, don't tell anyone though, lawyer confidentiality right? I can hack traffic lights so if you want to get away from him any time I can make it easier.”

Jess blinked at her in surprise and mild horror. “Give me a dollar,” she said. Charlie fished a few coins out of her pocket and handed four quarters over. “This is my retainer, okay? Now I can't be made to tell anyone that you can interfere with municipal property, and stalk people from afar. Fuck, Charlie, you're scarier than Jo.”

Jo and Charlie exchanged proud looks with each other and retreated to make their phone calls. “Do you have everything you need with you?” Castiel asked. “I can go and get things for you if you want. I'm good to drive.”

“I grabbed the baby bag and I've got enough medication with me to last a couple of days. I'm good overnight at least,” Jess replied. “They can't stop me from getting my stuff. I'll get someone from work to come with me when I pick stuff up to act as a witness.”

“You keep saying “they”,” Dean said distantly.

A spasm of anger crossed Jess's face. “He's been having an affair. With his secretary. Because that's the kind of cliché he is.” She shook her head. “I get the feeling she pushed for telling me. He never likes me finding these things out.”

“This isn't the first time, then.” Dean's voice was flat and his hand clenched around his beer bottle hard.

“At grad school a couple of times, at parties. He promised me it wouldn't happen again.” She snorted in disgust. “He promised me both times. I guess I should have known better, huh.”

“Believing in people isn't a weakness,” Castiel said softly. “If they're not trustworthy, that's on them, not you.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Jess sighed. “I just... I've seen this at work before, you know? Where one party is blind-sided. I always thought to myself how unobservant they must have been.” She shook her head at herself. “Well, I didn't see any of this coming. The worst thing is, I think he feels bad. He'll fight harder just for that. You know how he gets.”

Dean laughed bitterly. “Sounds like Sam, yeah.”

They sat in silence for a short while, waiting on the result of the calls. Jo was the first to return with a fierce nod and a brief hug to Jess. “That's from Mom. She says stay as long as you need. She's gonna set up the spare room for you, it should be ready in half an hour. And she says not to worry about the noise from the bar, she installed noise insulation last year, it's still up to industry specs. She's gonna look out the details for you in case you need it.”

Jess started to look teary again just as Charlie walked in. “Jody said to say she's on it, and Bobby said something that I don't want to repeat until he pays you a retainer. And also you can stay with them if you need to, they have space and they're both first-aiders. And something about Rumsfeld being good with kids?” She shrugged and grabbed another beer. “Also that I'm not allowed to break any federal laws, just FYI. Nothing about state laws though,” she grinned, giving the room a thumbs-up.

Crying again, Jess managed to get them all into a hug. “Thank you for being so nice,” she choked out. “I'm so sorry to spoil your evening.”

“Please, I live for drama,” Charlie declared. “This is way more exciting than the Shadow Orcs trying to assassinate me last month.”

“But you're all Sam's friends,” Jess whispered. “Why would you do this for me?”

Castiel held her hand tightly, but it was Charlie who answered. “You're one of us now. We look out for our own.” They all nodded in agreement. Dean seemed unable to speak, but his arm was tight aroung Jess' shoulders.

Charlie clapped her hands together. “Alright, I know we said a moritorium on Halo after the unfortunate lamp incident earlier, I hope you feel properly ashamed of yourselves Dean and Jo, but I think Jess needs to destroy the shit out of some things.” She pulled a paper crown out of her pocket and placed it on Jess' head. “You get to choose though. Halo or Mario Kart.”

Jess wiped her eyes and frowned at the television. “...Mario Kart. I'll show you how we played it back west.”

“Attagirl,” Jo said approvingly, handing out controllers and starting up the Wii.

They played for an hour, Jess proving adept enough to steal several races before her energy wound down and she was escorted to Ellen's by Jo and Charlie. Dean and Castiel were left to clean up with the promise of more gaming before Charlie returned to Canada.

The work was shared easily between them, but the silence was deep rather than companionable, Dean lost in brooding now that he had the space to do so.

“I just don't get it,” he burst out finally. “He hated Dad after we found out about Kate and Adam. Like, for years. Why would he have an affair?” He scrubbed a hand through his hair violently. “How could he change this much?”.

Castiel remembered the young man he had met on the roadside a decade ago, brimming with pride over his brother's acceptance into Stanford; he remembered Dean's terrified phone call from the airport before getting on the plane to see Sam graduate, willing to confront his biggest fear just to see his brother for the only time they would meet that year.

“I don't know,” he said helplessly. He moved towards Dean and put his arms around him hesitantly, unsure if Dean would reject his futile gesture of support or not, but Dean gave a shuddering sigh and opened up to his embrace.

“This is gonna make things really hard,” Dean whispered. Castiel nodded silently, and held on tight.

 

“All finished up at KU then, Dean?” John asked jovially, passing the bread rolls across the table. It was a small and awkward lunch, with the four Winchesters, Castiel, and Ruby sitting around the table in Dean and Castiel's apartment. Ruby had been a surprise last-minute addition, courtesy of Sam, and she had been well-behaved so far.

“Yeah, did my presentation, turned in the car and the paper, and sat the last couple of exams. It all seemed to go pretty well. Should find out in a week or two how it went.” Dean looked proud of himself, and rightly so; he had put a great deal of shop-time and work in on the car, building it to exacting standards. It looked and sounded like the model it was based on, an older Mustang, but it was far more fuel efficient and ran on a hybrid engine. He had machined everything himself to his own exacting standards, and it was a work of art, or so Castiel firmly believed.

“Graduation is at the end of June, which will make a nice break from wedding planning,” Castiel said. “You'd be more than welcome to attend, of course.” Everyone smiled and nodded.

“How do you think you did?” Sam asked diffidently.

“I'd've had to really mess up to pull my grade below a 4.0. I'm hoping for higher but I gotta wait and see.” Sam blinked in surprise, but John gave a proud grin.

“That's my boy. Always knew you were a first-class mechanic. Guess I get to add engineer to that too.” He slapped Dean on the back. Castiel smiled tightly at this revisionist view of history, but John's praise meant a great deal to Dean, and his father's pride in him made him glow.

“That's wonderful, dear,” Mary said with a small smile.

“What's next for you then Dean?” Ruby asked politely. “Do you have an industry job lined up?”

Dean was on orders to be civil to her, which he was by-and-large following. He spared her an acknowledging glance. “Naw, we're off to Cambridge for the fall. We got friends who're gonna house-hunt for us up there. Cas got a sweet lecturing gig at Harvard and I'm going to MIT.” He still looked amazed at the whole thing.

“You definitely got in then?” Sam asked.

“Yup. Final grade here'll affect funding but the place is mine. I had the interview just after I turned the project in, basically did two presentations, it was pretty intense. Anyone was more chowder? There's enough for seconds if you want it.”

“I still wish you would stay here,” Mary said fretfully. “Massachusetts is so far away, How will we cope without you?”

Castiel watched Dean carefully to see how this barb landed, but Dean deflected it with ease. “You coped fine without Sam for seven years, I'm sure you'll manage without me. You've got him to do the heavy lifting again, it'll all be good.” Sam's eyes widened in faint alarm, and Castiel hid a smirk at the thought of his weekends being filled with gardening and house repairs. More likely Sam would just pay someone else to do it.

Mary brightened at the thought and finally broached the elephant in the room. “Have you seen pictures of the baby yet? Sam has some on his phone.”

Dean and Castiel exchanged a wary glance. “We have, yeah,” Dean replied. “She's gorgeous.”

“Oh? I didn't send you any,” Sam said with a frown.

“No, Jessica sent me some,” Castiel said carefully. He and Dean had agreed not to mention the fact that they had visited Jess and the as-yet unnamed baby three times so far, once in the hospital and twice at home.

“I didn't realise you were still in touch,” Mary said, an uncomfortably sharp note in her voice.

“We are,” replied Dean. “Didn't realise that you weren't.” He mopped up the last of his chowder with a torn-off chunk of roll, which he had made earlier while Castiel had been preparing the rest of the meal. “I'm not gonna choose between you, Mom,” he warned. “You know how this goes.” He alluded to Adam and Kate as tactfully as possible.

Mary looked away with a frown, and Ruby scowled into her bowl. Sam looked like anger and shame were warring for dominance inside him. “I don't like that you're keeping in touch with her,” he said abruptly. “I'm your brother, you should be on my side about this.”

“Like I said, I didn't realise you wanted a complete ban on us having contact with our friend,” Dean snapped. “One of us has to stay civil if you ever want pictures of the baby, Mom. And if Sam does get custody, it'll work the other way too.”

“When we get custody we can take all the pictures we like,” Ruby hissed.

“Way I see it, this strengthens your claim,” Dean responded tightly. “It proves the Winchesters as a family are willing to be reasonable and maintain good relations, even if you two ain't speaking. If you wanna force us to cut ties, I'll be damn clear that it was your choice, not ours. That'll work in her favour.”

Sam was still unhappy, but the argument had merit, and he looked appeased. Ruby had no such feelings. “You're going to let them blackmail you into this?”

“I can't stop them from being friends. I don't like it, but there's no law against it,” he replied reluctantly.

“He's being disloyal!” Ruby was growing increasingly shrill.

“That's an ironic argument to use,” Castiel said, pitching his voice to carry all of the authority he could muster. “Are you sure you want to go down that route?”

A look of pure hatred crossed Ruby's face, but she remained silent. John pushed his bowl away and said with forced cheer, “That was great, boys. I think I left just enough room for dessert. Need any help clearing up?” He stretched out his bad arm and started collecting dishes.

“It's fine, thank you,” Castiel smiled. “Is everyone having dessert? We have cream or ice-cream to go with the cherry pie.”

He took orders and moved into the kitchen space to prepare. Ruby's back was to him, and there was a certain sense of relief now that the weight of her gaze was no longer on him. He allowed himself to be inefficient to prolong the small freedom.

Mary's pie had been left heating gently in the oven, and he served generous slices to everyone, making sure that each slice was the same size. He handed the bowls to everyone with the same friendly smile he had used as a waiter. It was only genuine for Dean and John, who had proved an unexpected ally this afternoon; Castiel was genuinely grateful for his efforts at peace-keeping.

Ruby resumed her campaign of trying to kill him with her mind, but Dean headed the worst of it off by shooting her giant grins whilst eating. He had weaponised his table-manners a long time ago, although he was perfectly capable of eating politely when he wanted to.

Sam had clearly failed to grasp the significance of his brother's cherry-stained smiles. “God, you're disgusting, Dean,” he snorted. “Hope you learn some table manners for the wedding or you're going to gross out all of your guests.”

Dean turned his grin on Sam, chewing loudly. “What can I say? This is really great pie. Thanks, Mom.” His free hand sought Castiel's under the table; Sam's words had hurt him, then.

Mary was quite willing to be complimented and to engage in a discussion about the slight changes to the recipe she had made, which left no room for further insults. Ruby was frowning thoughtfully at the conversation rather than continuing her campaign of glaring, which was a relief. When Mary mentioned looking forward to the tiny pies at the wedding, however, Ruby entered into the conversation, drawing out details skilfully and making Castiel nervous. He pressed Dean's hand in warning, but her trap was laid.

“So, all of your friends are going, and all of your family is coming,” she said brightly to Dean. “What about Jess and the baby?”

The click of Dean's jaw clamping shut was audible, and he cast his eyes about the table nervously. Everyone was waiting for the response. Dean's hand spasmed on Castiel's painfully. Drawing this out too long would be worse. “I invited her as one of my guests,” Castiel said firmly. “We've become quite close. I apologise if this is going to lead to any tension, Sam, Mary, but I thought that her presence would be tolerable for the sake of the baby.” Dean let out a tiny sigh and relaxed his death-grip, soothing the hurt away with his thumb.

“You're assuming she's going to win custody then,” Ruby said with another killing glare.

“Frankly, yes,” Castiel said, as haughtily as he could manage. “The weight of evidence is in her favour, and this is one instance in which institutional sexism will work in her favour. I am sure she will be willing to share custody. She is a good and kind person.” He took a deep breath and forged on. “I am sorry if this hurts you, Sam, but I see no reason to lie about this.”

Sam was much like Dean when angry, all coiled tension and barely controlled aggression. He slammed out of his chair and stalked around the apartment, running his hands through his hair. The whole table shrank away from him as he loomed over them briefly with a scowl before throwing his hands up and swinging away again. Ruby shot a look of triumph at Dean and Castiel and jumped up after him, but he shrugged off her hand and went into the bathroom briefly; the noise suggested he had splashed water on his face.

He returned and sat back down at the table, his jaw set and his eyes shuttered, anger turned ice-cold in an instant. “I appreciate that you are allowed to invite whoever you wish to your wedding, but I urge you to reconsider. I cannot in good conscience attend an event where the woman I am engaged in custody and divorce proceedings will be.” Mary gasped, John looked pained, and Dean closed down, turning cold and silent next to him.

“We'll take that under advisement,” Castiel replied coolly. “If you're quite finished I would appreciate if you left. Your girlfriend is making me uncomfortable. Her repeated glares are disconcerting.”

“No, I wasn't,” Ruby began, ready to argue, but Sam raised an eyebrow at her and whispered something in her ear, and she gathered her things and left, slamming the door open hard. Sam's expression was pinched as he followed her. His gaze was merciless as it swept across the room before he exited.

The door closed with a bang and Castiel flinched, the tension from the argument souring his stomach and making his skin hyper-sensitive. Dean leaned in towards him, putting his arm around Castiel's shoulders, and he tried to relax into it.

“I know it won't be nice, Dean dear, but it's for the best if you just tell Jess she can't come,” Mary said tearfully. “Get it over with quickly and we can put all of this unpleasantness behind us.”

Dean blinked slowly at her and turned to his father. “Dad?”

John scrubbed his face in discomfort. “I gotta agree with your Mom, son,” he said. “I'm not saying you shouldn't be friends with her – hell, I liked the girl too – but it's better for the family if she's not at your wedding.”

Dean closed his eyes, looking pained, and turned to Castiel. “Cas? What do you think?”

Speaking was surprisingly hard, but he forced the words out. “I just want you to be happy on our wedding day,” he whispered. “I want her to come. But I'll understand if she can't be there. So will she.”

Dean leaned back and blinked at the ceiling, swallowing hard. “Yeah, that's what I thought you'd say.” He met Castiel's eyes, lip trembling slightly. “You always got my back.” Castiel nodded fiercely. “Okay. Okay,” he sighed, and he turned to his parents and looked at them, not hiding his distress.

“You tell Sammy that he can come to the wedding as soon as he pulls on his big-boy pants and gets over himself,” he said clearly. “This ain't his wedding. It's ours. I did everything he asked when it was his wedding, every single goddamn thing, and if he can't suck it up for me and Cas then he doesn't deserve to be there in the first place.” A tear fell, and he swiped it away angrily. “We both want Jess there. She is our friend. I am not punishing her because Sam decided to start banging that demon-lady. Oh, and for the record? She's not invited. He's not getting a plus-one. I am not having her poisonous face glaring at me and my husband all day.”

Mary was sobbing now, but John looked steadily at Dean, a mix of pride and sadness flickering across his face. He looked like he was about to say something difficult, but Mary got in first. “If you won't do this for your brother then we can't be part of the wedding either. Not if you're not going to put family first.” Dean flinched visibly and turned white, swallowing hard.

“Mary!” John exclaimed. “Think about this!”

“I have, John! If he won't do this one thing for Sam, and we go, then we're choosing Dean over Sam. It's his choice. Let him deal with the consequences.” She grabbed her bag and left, a little more gracefully than Ruby had done but no less dramatically.

John got up slowly and stiffly. “Dad,” Dean whispered. “Please.”

He looked down at his son, regret in his eyes. “I'm sorry, son. I have to. I'll...I'll keep in touch.” He walked out heavily, his limp more pronounced than Castiel had ever seen it. He closed the door gently with one last troubled look at them.

Dean made a strange choked sob and sat trembling for a moment, before he suddenly bolted for the bathroom, knocking his chair over in his haste. Castiel followed quickly with a glass of water, the sounds of Dean losing his lunch painful to hear. He knelt down beside his fiancé and stroked his back silently; he couldn't seem to find any words to say. Nothing could make this better.

The stomach spasms changed into shuddering sobs as the carefully constructed dam inside Dean broke. He clung onto Castiel like a lost child, fingers gripping so tight they would leave bruises in their wake. Castiel's own eyes blurred with grief as he rocked Dean slowly and mindlessly, murmuring “I love you” endlessly in every language that he knew.

By the time Dean was able to speak again he had slid down Castiel and was lying in his lap, face pressed against his stomach. Castiel carded his fingers gently through Dean's hair. His face itched where the salt of his tears had dried on it, and his ankle was sore where Dean's weight was pressing on it; he wasn't sure he had the energy to more even if he wanted to. He could not change Dean's family, but he could be there for Dean. That was all that was required of him. That much, he could do.

“I love you too, Cas,” Dean said hoarsely. “Thanks. For all this.” He struggled upright and shifted back against the wall, looking exhausted and beaten.

“What are we going to do?” Castiel asked, his voice equally rough.

Dean looked at him helplessly. “I don't know. I just... don't know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still another chapter to go; I'll have it up as soon as it's finished.


	8. July, Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter. Kind of ran away from me a little.

Mornings were getting tougher on him these days. 'Specially morning-afters. Even more especially when Jody and Ellen had decided on a new sling thing they stuffed him into.

Bobby was pretty sure he was walking funny, and he had some bruises worryingly near his dick that were damn painful. At least he had an easy morning in the garage; he could warm up, have one of them nice donuts Castiel had found, have a coupla cups of coffee, all civilised. Maybe put some arnica on the bruises in the privacy of his own office, no-one else should be in today.

Of course, he wouldn't be Bobby Singer if some damn thing didn't go wrong from time to time. Sure enough, there was the boy wonder himself, ass hanging out of his daddy's car , spreading her fancy guts all over the floor and making a mess of the place. On a Sunday. Jesus suffering Christ.

“Damnit, Dean,” he growled. “How many times do I gotta tell you to tidy up after yerself?”

Dean clanged his head on the hood and Bobby stifled a snort of laughter. “Ow! Sonovabitch! Give a guy a little warning, Bobby!” He rubbed his head and scowled, stepping carefully over his engine parts and heading to the coffee machine, grumbling to himself. “And it's all in order, I know exactly where everything is and I know exactly what I'm gonna do with it,” he finished up, shoving an unopened box in front of Bobby.

Donuts. Full of donuts. Tiny little bacon crispy bits gleaming on top of each one. Bobby licked his lips.

“I need to give you some alone time?” Dean said with a shit-eating smirk on his face.

“Shuddup, boy, less I tell you what we did last night,” Bobby threatened. Dean fake-gagged and left him to the box, busying himself with the coffee. “What're you doin' here anyway? Thought you were done fixin' her up?”

“I was, but uh, I'm changing some stuff around. Got a different engine to put in. Hybrid. Worked out the specs and the details, I gotta move some stuff around a little inside to make everything fit right.” Boy wasn't meeting his eyes, never a good sign. Something else was going on here.

Bobby narrowed his eyes. “You getting' rid of that fancy engine yer dad and Sam bought you?”

“Yeah, well, I'm going to MIT to study green car tech, I figure turning up in a gas guzzler isn't gonna look so good.” Dean looked at the nearly pristine engine and sighed. “That was a gift for a different Dean. 'Sides, I'm gonna fine-tune the power of the new one, she'll run just as sweet as she ever did. Sound just as good too, I got some parts left over from the Mustang.”

“You and yer damn car sounds,” Bobby muttered, but he let Dean work a while without comment, retreating to his office to catch up on paperwork. Always a good idea to give him some space while he worked his head around stuff. He'd been out of his game the past week, looking all lost and fragile like he did when his parents kicked him out – “Oh, shit,” Bobby whispered, scrambling out of his chair and heading back into the workspace.

“So, how're things with Cas? Everythin' alright?” he asked as casually as he could.

Dean was under the car with some weird looking parts lined up beside him in order, feeling around for each one as he needed it without looking. “Yeah, he's great, got a lot of exams to mark but he's getting it done. We were gonna hit the Roadhouse tonight for some pool if you wanna drop by.” He sounded calm and relaxed. Thank god. Bobby never wanted to see the mess that'd be left if they ever split up. Bad enough when they were fighting.

“Maybe, yeah, I'll see what Alex is doing. Girl's gotta learn how to shark pool some day.” Dean snorted amused agreement and continued doing... whatever it was he was doing. “Gimme a shout when you want lunch, my shout,” Bobby said, backing away again. Still a mystery, but not as bad as it could've been. Wedding stuff most likely. Those were always tricky.

The morning rolled on; he finished up going through the inventory list, double checked the bills on the spreadsheet Charlie had forced him to master – girl was far too scary for her own good when she wanted to be – and printing off payslips. These days he only worked the occasional Sunday, usually when he was too hungover to cope with shouting kids, and he wanted everything prepped for spending the evenings with them outside, learning how to catch and shoot a .45 and other wholesome kid stuff.

Bobby knew he was an unconventional parent, but it worked out pretty good for him. Most of the fosters turned out okay, and they all left in a better place than they had arrived in. That was all that really mattered. He looked through at Dean, currently lip-synching to AC/DC, using a wrench as a microphone, and smiled gently, He wiped it off before the kid could see it though. Didn't want anyone to think he was going soft in his old age.

They had a companionable but quiet lunch of sandwiches from the deli down the road, sitting on one of the junkers in the back. Dean had turned awkward and monosyllabic. Sure sign he was working up to something. Took him a while, sometimes. Words came hard to them both. Bobby was much happier with books than people some days. Well, most days. Dean went more for numbers and diagrams, but they were similar where it mattered.

Jody understood him and his silences, his need for control and peace in the elaborate calligraphy of kanji, in a way that no-one had since Karen. Even Ellen sometimes tried to bring him out of it too fast, for all she knew him and loved him. Dean did it less often than Bobby did, but he had Cas to sit silently with when he needed the quiet, and to throw him lifelines when he spiralled too deep. They were a good fit.

The afternoon had mostly passed by the time Dean finally found his voice. Bobby was fixing some fiddly wiring inside a door – if he ever caught whoever had tried to rewire it he would gut them himself – when Dean broke his concentration by thrusting another donut and a coffee in front of him. “You wanna take a break for ten minutes? I, uh, I got something I wanna, uh...” he trailed off. Bobby took pity on him and grabbed the proffered bribes, getting out of the car and propping himself against the wall. Might be in for a long one, at this rate.

Dean shuffled round a little more, getting himself a coffee and leaning on the Impala. He wasn't looking at Bobby as much as he was looking near him, his eyes darting around. “So, uh, I had a... kind of a fight with Sam the other day over Jess coming to the wedding. Anyway, uh, long story short, he and Mom and Dad prob'ly aren't coming, and I wanted to know if you would, uh... if you would give me away and do the speech. The dad speech. If you don't mind. Please.”

Bobby put his coffee and donut down carefully, bit back his anger at the rest of the Winchesters, and glared at Dean until he looked him in the eyes. “Of course I will, y'idjit. You're my boy. It'd be my honour.”

Dean had always been a hugger, even if he liked to pretend he wasn't, and he was over and hugging Bobby so fast he would've sworn the boy had teleported. Not a brief slap-on-the-back hug, but a full-on clinging kid-in-pain hug. He held him tight, his first boy, his overlooked favourite, his wayward son, and Dean's eyes weren't the only ones wet when the hug ended.

“Thanks, old man. This means...” Dean choked on the rest of it and just waved his hands about like an idjit.

“Idjit,” Bobby said, gruffer than he intended. “I love you, and I'm damn proud of you, and I'll do whatever you want. Even wear a tux.” He paused and narrowed his eyes at Dean. “I ain't shavin' though.”

“Never ask that of you, don't worry,” Dean laughed. Still watery, but recovering.

“And if they change their minds, I'll step down no problem, y'hear me? I ain't gonna be insulted.”

Dean looked away. “I don't think it's gonna happen. But even if it does, I want you doing it all. I finally hit the point I can walk away from them. Wish it didn't mean leaving all of you as well, but I gotta... I gotta go, Bobby.”

“I know, son. It ain't forever. And if you don't keep in touch, Jody'll hunt you down and shoot you.” Dean nodded seriously. Good to see the boy had some sense. Bobby walked to the fridge and pulled out a couple beers, passing one to Dean and standing next to him in comfortable, simple silence for a while.

A horrible thought crossed his mind. “Aw, balls, I gotta give a speech in front of a hundred people,” he groaned, and Dean laughed until he was gasping. “Idjit.”

 

It took a lot to make her admit this, but after a long week of crunch even Charlie had limits to how much she wanted to stare at a computer screen. Stupid deadlines. Stupid industry standard terrible working conditions. She glared at her gaming rig and then whined as it made her eyes stab.

“Ow! This sucks. Eff Em Ell.”

“Stop whining,” Jo laughed. “You have a headache, it's not the end of the world.”

Charlie dropped back down on the bed, making her tablet bounce closer to the edge. “I think my eyes are going to bleed. Seriously. I see code every time I close my eyes. In weirdly pretty colours.”

“Drama queen,” Jo responded. She was probably rolling her eyes. Charlie couldn't tell, because her eyes were too sore for video calls. Audio only was like living in the Dark Ages. “Come on, you can talk this through without needing to type anything. You can use a pen and paper to take notes if you need to.”

“Like some sort of savage?” Charlie groaned again. “I can't, I have all the lights off,” she sighed.

“Shit, you really must be in pain,” Jo responded with a faint note of sympathy. “Come on, Char,” she yawned. “I got an early start tomorrow. Get your brain in gear.”

“Oh, fine, you're no fun,” she pouted back. Wasted, of course. Stupid crunch. “So... no to the Moondoor quest, even though it's epic, but okay for the Star Wars queue story. That was a great duel.” Dean was pretty awesome with a lightsaber when he put his mind to it. Not as good as her, natch, but still awesome.

“God you're nerds,” Jo said. “But it is a good story. You need more though.”

“I know, I know, but they mostly involve stuff no-one will get. Oh! When he taught me to shoot.” She made her hands into a gun and sighted down her thumbs. God, she really needed to stop chewing her nails when she was waiting for code to compile, they were a mess and the wedding was coming up soon. Crap.

“Not sure I know that one.” Jo's connection wavered; she must be walking through the house getting ready for bed. Charlie tried really hard not to think about her stripping naked and climbing into silk sheets, but it was very hard.

She rolled over and pulled the tablet to safety. “I was over at Bobby's with Jody, and Dean was there, and he taught me to shoot. That's... pretty much it. But it was really fun! And he took the blame when I accidentally shot a window out.”

Jo was silent for a short while. “Maybe for the “look how nice he is” bit,” she said eventually.

“Not a big lol?”

“Nope.”

“Shoot. Okay, what about... god, why is this so hard? We're both fun people! We do fun things together!”

“You do nerd things together,” Jo snorted. “Because you're both nerds.”

“You're just jealous because you're not the Queen.” Charlie bit her lip and played with her newly short hair. “I think maybe the nerd route is the way to go,” she mused. “I mean, he's going to MIT. That's really nerdy. And a lot of people just know stories about him from when he was younger and angrier.”

“Yeah... You know the weirdest thing about all of this is that I knew he was a nerd since I was really little. I mean, he was a lot older, but hew was always happy to play superheroes or Star Wars. We had this whole elaborate monster-hunting game we would play. And no-one else seemed to see it. At least, they never talked about it. He got these amazing grades and everyone was like, “oh, he's a great wrestler,” or “oh, he beat someone up in the corridor.” And then it would turn out that he'd beat up some douche who was bullying some little kids, or something. But they never talked about that.”

“Was everyone like that? Or was it just, you know, Them?” Their names were not to be uttered. Charlie and Jo had both been banned by their parental figures from exacting their particular flavours of creative revenge, because no-one wanted them to have any fun, but they could at least be petty and snub them. Which they were totally going to do. Majestically, as befit a Queen and her Consort. Sort of Consort. Once and Future Consort. That had a good ring to it.

“Well... it's kind of hard to say. Sort of both? A lot of the time I'd hear stuff, and it would be all “that Dean, what a tearaway,” but then a month later the same people would be saying “that Dean, what a nice young man,” and no-one ever really questioned it.”

Charlie propped her legs up against the wall. “One of the things you learn as a foster kid is that other people's stories tend to hang around you, even when they're wrong.”

“Yeah. That, I guess.”

“So I say stuff about the Dean that we know, then. All of his friends. And try and make it funny.”

“There's a lot of good funny stories from when they got together,” Jo said. She was probably doing that cute little thing where she ran her tongue over her lip a lot. Or she was playing with a knife. Charlie sighed happily. Jo with a knife was a sight to behold. Hopefully soon. And naked.

“Stay on target,” she muttered to herself. “There was some good pining back then... Oh! The Shipping Forecast! Of course!”

Jo gave a shout of laughter. “That'll be awesome, yeah, that one for sure. You know Mom and Bobby both put bets down for that?”

“I do now!” Charlie punched the air triumphantly, and then whined when her arm hurt. “Crap! Stupid RSI. I hate crunch time.”

“You keep saying,” Jo said drily. “And yet you keep staying in your job.”

“I'm pouting right now.”

“I know.”

“It's a really good pout.” It really was, Charlie would totally give herself sympathy on the strength of the pout.

“I'm sure it is.” Now Jo was just being mean.

“Ugh, fine. So the Star Wars duel, and the Shipping Forecast, and probably a tequila night story – the one when he thought he could talk to dogs?” Jo made an approving noise. “And then something heart-warming about how good a friend he is, and then toasting.”

“With the glasses that look like boobs,” Jo interjected.

“Mmm, boobs. They don't really though. It's just a really old urban myth. From before the age of Snopes.”

“Damn,” Jo said. “There goes my plan to wear them as a bra.”

“I'm sure arrangements could be made to make that experience happen,” Charlie said smoothly. “I'm more than willing to help you experiment. For science!”

“I'll bet you are,” Jo snorted, but she sounded amused, so that was a win. Score one for plan Be Great Best Man and plan Win Jo Back Properly. Charlie did a happy dance. Carefully. Stupid crunch.

The toilet stall was clean, quiet, and cool. Castiel was sitting in one of the stalls, head in his hands, breathing carefully. He thought he was over the worst of it now, but the idea of going back outside made him shudder. He still had time. Balthazar had promised to give him as long as he could before he had to go out there.

The door swung open and footsteps clicked across the floor, smart shoes but a graceful tread. The stall door next to him swung open and someone sat down. It sounded very much like Dean.

“Cas?” Definitely Dean. What was he doing here? Wasn't this a bad omen? Oh gods.

“Didn't we agree not to see each other because it would be bad luck?” Castiel grated out.

“You see me right now?” Dean asked.

That was... actually a very good point. “I will accept your liberal interpretation of the superstition,” It was a stupid one anyway, no doubt a relic from the days of arranged marriages. And there was no such thing as bad luck or ill omens.“Why are you here?”

“Meg called me. Said you were holed up and not speaking to anyone.” Dean was doing his best to hide the worry in his voice, but it still bled through to Castiel's practised ear.

“Traitor,” he muttered. Meg always meddled. Although in this instance she was probably right to. He could feel his panic receding just from Dean's presence. “I needed some time away from the spectacle. I'm not having second thoughts.”

“Didn't think you were,” Dean said lightly. He was almost certainly lying. His self-esteem issues ran deep, and this was exactly the kind of situation where he would think the worst. Castiel would do the same thing if the tables were turned.

“Liar,” he replied as gently as he could. He needed to head this doubt off before it sank its claws deep into Dean. Even if the truth was personally embarrassing. He sighed at himself. “I – I have performance anxiety. We have a large audience.”

“I have literally listened to you lecture a thousand people before,” Dean said with mild disbelief in his voice. “You got this, come on.”

“It's different when they're looking at me instead of at Professor Milton,” Castiel whispered, mortified by the whole thing. “I know it doesn't make any sense. If I'd known... I would have told you this was coming, I swear.” He tried to project as much sincerity as possible into his voice. It would be awful if they started married life on a bad note because he couldn't control his stage fright.

Something moved out of the corner of his eye and he saw Dean's hand waving through the gap underneath the stalls. He reached down and held it tightly, the strong hand providing its usual immediate comfort.

“You're not saying anything for them,” Dean said gently. “You're only talking to me, and Pastor Jim, and Charlie and Balthazar. No-one else matters. Well, not right now.”

Castiel sighed deeply, the tight band of fear around his chest finally loosening. “Yes. Thank you.”

“I'll be right there beside you for all of it. Me and you, babe. Always.” Gods, he loved this man, always so gentle with his insecurities.

Tears threatened, and Castiel tightened his grip on Dean's hand to ward them off and ground himself again. He shook himself and stood, brushing off his tuxedo and making sure there were no wrinkles. “Always, belovéd. I shall see you in five minutes,” he promised.

He washed his hands fastidiously before leaving the bathroom, not wanting to see Dean just in case there was something to the superstition. The murmur of the crowd reassured him now, instead of making his heart pound and his head swim; the sound promised a future together for all of the years they had.

 

The ceremony was short, no long sermon to sit through. Cas was a rock through the vows; Dean cried so much he was kinda dehydrated. They signed the paperwork and looked at each other in amazement. Married, legally, in front of everyone they loved.

“Gotta say, I never really imagined this part,” Dean said with a grimace. “Being married to you? Sure, all the time. Saying the vows? I had to write that shit, I pictured it a lot. But this part... I got nothin'.”

“There's a lot of champagne out there,” Cas offered. “If we start with that the rest will be easier.”

Dean brightened. “Good point. We get to do that champagne waterfall thing with the huge bottle.”

“I think it's a jeroboam,” Cas said doubtfully. “Mother will know, I'm sure.”

They looked at each other. “We're stalling,” Dean sighed. Cas nodded and bit his lip. “Let's take it one step at a time. We got the fountain thing to do, and some meet-and greet, that's easy. Then photos. Those are easy too.”

Cas nodded and adjusted Dean's tie slightly, running his fingers over the silk ribbons tied around their wrists. He raised Dean's hand and pressed a kiss into the sensitive underside of his wrist, scraping his teeth over the pulse lightly. Dean shivered and adjusted himself in his pants. His husband smirked and led them out into the ballroom.

Man, Dean was not gonna get over calling him that any time soon. He smiled giddily at everyone, not paying any attention to anything they were saying. Probably just saying how adorable they were. Dean already knew that. He felt like he was walking on air.

It took both of them, and some discreet help from the head waiter, to lift and pour the champagne bottle into the coupe glasses. He had to hand it to Naomi though, it looked damn impressive. They shared the top glass and started making the rounds.

A hundred people wanted to congratulate him, and it took a while to get around them all. They answered so many questions about the flowers he was tempted to just shout across the room “They're made of aluminium, the colour is some chemical treatment, we thought it would be cool if they lasted forever, now please stop asking about them.” He managed to rein in the impulse though. Took a lot of effort.

He and Cas worked their way around the room haphazardly, allowing themselves to be the centre of attention. They'd worked out a plan of attack beforehand, leaving all of the tricky conversations to the end so they could use the photos as an excuse to escape if they needed. Charlie and Balthazar had been drafted in to run interference for the really awkward folks.

Dean caught Balthazar's eye as he finally bit the bullet and went over to where his parents and Sam were standing; Charlie had made it very clear she wasn't speaking to them. Not that Balthazar was going to be much better. He had been really sarcastic about the whole thing, which had surprised the hell out of Dean; he'd not thought that Balth liked him enough to care. Turns out he had more friends than he'd thought.

Cas put his arm around Dean's waist and squeezed gently as they approached. Sam was looking sullen about something, Mom had clearly been crying, and Dad was sipping champagne and trying not to make eye contact with anyone in the room. Awesome. He looked up at Cas and Dean's approach and gave them a huge grin though, so that was good.

“Congratulations, sons!” he said proudly. Cas did his confused bird impression, blinking at Dad with his head tilted. He gave a slow smile as it sunk in. John might not be a super great father all the time, but he was still here and supportive, which was more than could be said for Cas's dad.

Dad shook their hands and clapped them on the back, telling them that the ceremony was great and that the music was awesome, and he was sincere when he said how glad he was to be there. Or, well, he seemed sincere. He even muttered to Dean that it was really great to see Adam and that he'd try to have a word with him later if he could. Dean wasn't going to hold his breath on that one though.

Mom mostly just cried. Sam shook their hands and gave them tight smiles, and Balthazar swept in to tell them that the photographer was ready for them.

“You were looking tense, darlings,” he murmured as he guided them out. “Let them stew in their own juices for a while. Are they still oh for three on apologies?”

“Dad called when he was drunk a couple nights back, he seemed to be trying to do it without actually saying the words,” Dean replied. He loosened his jaw carefully. Musta been clenching it.

Cas grimaced doubtfully, less willing to forgive than Dean was for once. “He was very enthusiastic right then, at least.”

“Well, half a point is better than none, I suppose,” Balthazar replied. “Do you think they'll stay for dinner?”

“My bet is yes, but I can't see them staying after that.” Sam would want to stay for the food so he could brag about it at work. Dean suspected that the various speeches would be enough to drive them away. His heart gave a tiny pang at that. Still trying to be the perfect son. He snorted and shook his head at himself.

Cas looked at him with endless compassion in his eyes. “You are a good son and brother,” he said quietly, with his freaky mind-reading ability to tell what Dean was thinking. “The fault is theirs. Don't let them spoil any part of today.”

“I'm not, I swear,” Dean whispered back. Cas cupped his jaw in his hand and kissed him gently, the taste of champagne lingering on his lips.

“God, you pair are sickening,” Balthazar snorted. “I'd say “get a room” but that seems a little redundant right now. Also, the photographer really is ready. Hurry up. Stop being gooey.” Cas rolled his eyes at his best man, Dean gave him the finger, and they went off to Blue Steel their way through the next hour.

It was more fun that Dean had thought it was going to be, and they goofed around and made stupid faces and laughed while the photographer took candids in between the big posed shots. It was all pretty painless. They even managed to get Naomi to crack a grin during the family shots with her and Hannah and Zeke, as Cas chased Hannah around with a captured (and really good-natured) bee while Dean tried to jump on Zeke's back.

“I will seek vengeance for this,” Zeke told him seriously.

“One time I put Nair in Sam's shampoo bottle during a prank war,” Dean warned his new little brother. It still hurt to think about the good times with Sammy, but Dean was getting a better handle on it now.

Zeke pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. “I once unbound one of Castiel's favourite novels and rebound it with each successive page upside down to the last.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “Dude, that's hefty pranking commitment right there.” Zeke gave him an evil grin. “I'm gonna enjoy next Christmas.”

“Indeed,” Zeke said meaningfully. Hannah ran past them, chasing Castiel with a silver knife. They watched her worriedly. “She probably won't harm him,” Zeke said doubtfully.

“Really doesn't like bees, huh?”

The faint sound of Hannah shouting “I will cut you where it won't show, Castiel, and only your husband will mourn the loss!” floated around the corner.

It took a while for order to be regained, and Dean was pretty sure he'd seen Jo offer Hannah some tips and a better knife before they disappeared inside to find more champagne. That could only end well. Jess handed him his niece with a smile before he had time to get properly worried.

“She just spit up on Bobby so you should be good with no more incidents for at least ten minutes,” she said with a smile. Olivia Honor was a relatively placid baby, just about starting to recognise people. She stared solemnly at Dean while he took her to find Cas so they could get adorable baby pictures taken, Jess laughing at his commentary. 

Honor – Jess's preferred name for her; Sam had picked Olivia – tolerated being outside in the heat better than Charlie had, but she was taken back inside by Jess as soon as she started complaining. Dean's parents and Sam were just on their way out; Dean watched anxiously as Sam tried to corner Jess, but Balthazar swept him along ruthlessly. Jess disappeared into a crowd of Milton cousins.

Cas had warned the photographer that this might be awkward, and she was smooth and professional as she got the necessary immediate family pictures out of the way. For all of her earlier tears, Mary looked perfect in the photos. Mom always cared about appearances. That was why she was here at all. Sam's smile might not have extended to his eyes but he was at least civil to everyone; Zeke made a point of being sincere and faintly creepy in the way that only Zeke could, taking him back inside and out of the way once the pics were done.

Naomi, meanwhile, was bragging to his Mom about his recently acquired funding. “I was delighted when I heard the news, of course. With this funding secured Dean has proven his value not only to his fellow doctorate students at MIT, but to the whole of the automobile industry.” Dean tried not to let his doubts cross his face, but he couldn't stop his blush. “I've done my part to mention it to the right people in the environmental lobby, and I'm sure you haven't been able to stop talking about it either. It's a remarkable achievement. The companies haven't even forced proprietary clauses on his work, they deemed it so important.”

She led Dean's bemused parents back inside as the last group came out, Bobby and Jody and Ellen with all of the kids who were there. Jo and Charlie stuck close together looking loved-up and happy, finally. These ones were much more relaxed, and they spent a while laughing and joking with each other as the photographer took candid after candid unobtrusively in the background.

Finally, she moved them all inside to get a few massive group photos of all the guests together, Dean and Cas front and centre. Incredibly cheesy, but Dean secretly loved it. His husband at his side, everyone he loved surrounding him; he was going to be riding the high of this for weeks. That'd definitely help get him to Hawaii. He really wasn't looking forward to the long flights.

More mingling for a while, and then they all sat down for dinner. They'd decided to stagger the speeches out throughout the meal, so that no-one got too bored and antsy sitting through them, Dean included. He'd drawn the short straw to kick it off. Cas was used to talking in front of an audience but Dean got nervous in presentations; his hands were sweating when he stood up and tinged his fork against his glass to get folks' attention.

“So, uh, hey, welcome to the wedding, glad you could be here. Food's gonna start coming out real soon but first of all I've got a few folks to thank. We're gonna do speeches in between the courses, so don't worry, you're gonna get food soon.” He smiled nervously and relaxed a little at the small laugh he raised. “Uh, first off, thank you to my husband, Castiel. You've been a total rock through this whole thing and I wouldn't be here, at this place in my life, without your support, friendship, and love.” Cas blushed and there were a lot of aws from the audience.

“Second, thanks to the Miltons, who welcomed me into their family. I'm proud to share your surname. Even if you are all certifiable.” There was a cheer from the Milton cousin table, led by Gabe no doubt. “I gotta thank Bobby as well for being here for me since I was a kid. Thanks for never giving up on me even when I was, uh, let's just say being a dick and leave it there.”

He took another deep breath. “Thanks from both of us to all of the groomspeople, and Charlie and Balth especially, for makin' this morning so easy. And to all of the serving staff and kitchen staff – you guys are all great, and you're all welcome to join in the party once you clock off, okay? Bar staff, sorry you have to work, but you're great too and I'm sure we'll all tip well.

“That's pretty much it. Last thanks to everyone here for coming, you made today really special and we hope you enjoy the rest of the night.” He sat down abruptly and tried not to blush as people started clapping.

Cas found his hand and held it while the servers starting coming out with the starters, a vegetarian-friendly soup with little floating croutons made to look like flowers and swans. At his side, Naomi smiled in satisfaction as she tasted the wine. “This pairing works really well,” she murmured. “I hope it's not too dry for your tastes.”

“Naw, I like my whites dry. I find the sweet ones too cloying, you know? Makes my teeth feel sticky.” She was right; the tartness of the wine went well with the surprising richness of the soup. He dug out a piece of carrot and laughed as he saw it was carved into a fish. “Man, I love the attention to detail of the presentation,” he grinned. “Must take them a long time to do prep though, serving so many people.”

“I understand they use shape cutters they had made,” Naomi replied. “Most of the high-end restaurants do these days.”

They continued chatting until Naomi's sharp eyes determined that everyone had finished. She nodded to the head waiter at the back, and a stream of people came out with trays of champagne coupes for everyone, collecting bowls while they went. Naomi stood once they were all through.

“Good evening, everyone,” she said, her voice perfectly pitched – what else – to cut across the whole room. “As mother of the groom, it is my turn to make a speech. I am told that it should be touching and funny, but contain nothing that will cause Castiel any lasting embarrassment. This meant that I had a limited choice of stories to share, as he was very serious as a small child. This should come as no surprise to any of you,” she added drily, raising an eyebrow at her stoic son.

“He was a loving and caring boy, even if he had the sense of humour of a rock, and he loved nothing more than caring for lost animals and insects. One day I came home to find the house full of confused bees, as he had been capturing them and releasing them inside to keep them safe from the rain he was sure was coming. It took some time and a lot of tears to persuade him that they were safer outside, and to this day his sister remains terrified of them, as I was reminded earlier today.” Hannah, sitting at the family table at the front, gave a visible flinch and scowled at Cas. Dean tried not to laugh.

“The remarkable thing about that whole story was not that he cared so much about them, but that they had not harmed him. Castiel inspires great kindness and loyalty towards himself, even in insects, because of his own warmth and generosity of spirit. He has weathered a great many storms – I myself am the cause of some of them, much to my regret now – and yet he remains good-humoured, forgiving, and loving to even those who have hurt him the most.”

Cas was blinking and his grip on Dean's hand was tight. Dean swapped hands deftly and put his arm around him, squeezing him gently but firmly. “It was Dean who engineered our reconciliation,” Naomi continued. “Left to our own devices, I fear we would have been too stubborn to be able to accept each other fully again. Dean gave me back my son. I would love him for that even if he were not as kind and generous as Castiel is. The loyalty, trust and love they share between them is inspiring to see. Today, I am truly delighted to welcome him into my family, and call him my son.”

Now Dean was blinking and gripping Cas tight, trying not to cry in front of a roomful of people again. Once was enough. Beside him, Naomi raised her glass and smiled down at both of them. “To Castiel and Dean.” Everyone stood up and toasted them, and Dean turned hot with embarrassment. Not allowed to look away and hide though, so he smiled and sat there, feeling like dick, until everyone sat down again.

Cas scooted out of his chair to give his mom a hug, pulling Dean in with him, as the servers made the rounds again, serving the rainbow fish course and the wine chosen to go with it. They all sat back down and tucked in. Everyone seemed to be enjoying it; he could hear Charlie's delighted laughter from the other side of Naomi, and the rest of the room seemed charmed as well.

His part of the night was over. All he had to worry about was being sober enough to cut the cake. It would be nice to be able to get it up later on, but he was perfectly prepared to let Cas have his wicked way with him regardless. Well... maybe moderation was a good idea towards the end of the night after all. Cas'd probably appreciate it.

The fish was as good as he remembered it, and he and Cas spent a while suggesting flavour combinations to each other. Naomi joined in, and even Bobby made a couple suggestions.

Once their plates were finished and they were sipping the dregs of their wine, Charlie stood up. “I'm not allowed to give you all my usual greeting, so hey, everyone! Hope you're all enjoying the food! Today's been an awesome day and I'm really glad to be here. Super grats to Dean and Cas!

“Now, seeing as I'm Dean's best man, I get to tell you some great stories before the main course, and man, picking them was hard. This guy is awesome. But... we're both nerds, and most of our funny times aren't fit for public consumption.” Dean took a breath in to object, but he had no leg to stand on and he knew it. He grumbled to himself anyway.

Charlie went on to tell the room about the epic duel they'd had when they were waiting in line to see the three original Star Wars films in Dallas a few years back. She used hand-gestures and described Dean's pratfall in exquisite detail. Dean was mortified, but Cas laughed so hard he got wine up his nose, so he supposed it was worth it. They were both embarrassed when Charlie detailed the betting pool at the Roadhouse as to when they would finally get together. Even Naomi laughed at that one, and Gabe fell off his seat and had to be helped up by Jess.

Traitors, all of them.

“Seriously, though, Dean has been my best friend since I was a messed-up kid with a tracking band on my ankle. The first time he met me, Bobby didn't have any games consoles in his house – I know, I know, I fixed that real quick – so he took me out and showed me how to shoot a pistol, and we made up this whole monster-hunting narrative to go along with it. I don't know any other 24-year-old who would have even given a 17-year-old nerdy lesbian the time of day, let alone played with her like he was still a kid. Which he is. Huge one. Don't let him fool you.

“And when I got a little overexcited and shot at something moving that turned out to be a reflection in the house window, he took the blame like it was nothing. Bobby shouted at him and made him pay, and Dean just shrugged it off and winked at me and took all the responsibility. No-one had done that for me since my parents were alive. That was when I knew we would be bee eff effs.

“So I'm super happy to see him getting married to Cas, and I'm looking forward to mocking them about how disgustingly in love they are in forty years' time. You guys are my oh tee pee. I ship you.” She toasted them with a grin, and sat back down smugly. Dean heard Naomi start quizzing her about the acronyms and Charlie launched into a dramatic explanation, complete with telling Naomi about her other OTPs . Dean pretended he couldn't hear her. Obviously he shipped Stucky as well, he was even trying to persuade Cas to cosplay them for Halloween, but his mother-in-law didn't need to hear about it.

Still really weird to be able to use that. He grinned at Cas again as they tucked into the steak main course.

In front of him, Sam had an odd constipated expression on his face, like he was remembering something and didn't like it much. Dean hoped it was something about the taking blame story; he'd done it for the kid a hundred times while they were growing up, one time even losing half his summer to being grounded because Sam had gone joy-riding with his friend in the Impala and Dean had gotten the blame. But he probably just had gas, or something. Who knew what was going on in his head any more. Dean certainly didn't.

He missed the kid that his brother had been, but he didn't like the man he had become. It was a relief to be able to admit it to himself finally, for all it had devastated him to have to do so. At least he'd unbent enough to come today. John had said the other night that he had been putting the pressure on and not letting Sam forget what Dean had done for him; Dad didn't know the half of it, frankly, but he appreciated the help. And when Mom had finally got tired of being gossiped about she had changed her mind too. Would have been nice if she'd done it a week earlier as opposed to two nights ago, or hadn't done it at all, but he supposed he couldn't have everything.

He had a new family now, anyway. Naomi might be kind of a bitch but she cared about him in her own weird way, and Hannah and Zeke were great. And his husband, of course, was the best of everyone.

Dean leaned over and kissed him thoroughly, tasting the spices of the sauce mingling with the rich red wine it had been served with, and grinned at him happily. “Love you, Mr Milton,” he whispered.

Cas gave him a bemused but fond smile back. “I know, Mr Milton.” He took Dean's hand again, swapping his fork to his left side, and set it on the table where everyone could see.

They were allowed to be gross. It was their damn wedding day. Dean smiled smugly to himself and swirled pak choi through the remainder of his sauce, cleaning his plate as best he could.

Balthazar's speech was at the end of the course, and he talked for a while about Cas's hilariously nerdy misunderstandings at college, finishing with a begrudging but flattering description of the two of them together. The begrudging bit was just for comedic effect, Cas assured him. Dean sulked a bit anyway, just until the dessert came out, for “comedic effect”.

There was another red wine with the chocolate... thing... that was presented to them – a double portion on a single plate, so they could share, which Dean thought was a little OTT but what the hell, food was foreplay sometimes. It took them a while to get through it. The wine was some rich blood-red concoction that echoed the chocolate and promised a shitty hangover the next day if he had more than one glass. He drank a lot of water to try and stave that off.

Bobby cleared this throat on the other side of Cas, muttered “Balls,” to himself, and stood. He tinged his glass a couple of times, glaring at the room until it fell silent.

“I've know this idjit since he was too small to reach the pedals of his Daddy's car,” he began, waving at Dean. “Cas I met nine years ago at the Roadhouse, when he was makin' moon eyes at Dean from the drunk side of the bar. But I've known Dean since his Daddy started workin' for me when he was four. He was a pain in my ass from the get-go, always gettin' into crap, spillin' oil everywhere, tryna drive cars before he knew what a damn clutch was. He ain't changed much. Got bigger some. Still spills oil everywhere, still gets into my crap.

“I ain't here to tell you how cute he was as a nipper, though he was, big green eyes and freckles and a gappy grin. I ain't gonna tell you about how annoyin' he was as a teenager, I'm sure you can all imagine, he's irritatin' as hell now and he was a damn sight worse back then.” Dean flipped him off covertly, and Bobby's lips twitched.

“I got plenty of stories about him fer sure, but I wanna tell you one about me. When I was a kid, back in the Dark Ages apparently, before internet and colour TV, I learned the hard way that sometimes, yer family don't treat you right. My daddy was a mean drunk, and he did all the things that mean drunks do. I didn't put much stock in families. When my first wife wanted one, I went along with it fer her sake, and when she died I gave up on 'em completely. I didn't need a family. They were good fer nothin' but pain.

“But then this stupid kid comes to my garage every day after school, and he runs around getting' me things and openin' my beers, and soon enough he's working fer me at the weekends cleaning the muck off of cars I was fixin'. And then he's sixteen, and he's livin' with me, and we talk about some important crap, and I see that family don't end in blood, and the sneaky little bastard has made himself into my family without me even knowin' about it.

“And when my second wife decides that fostering is the way forward fer her and me, and I panic about how good of a father I'll be when my own was so shitty, he sits me down and tells me I ain't got nothin' to worry about, because I've already been a dad to him, so he knows how great I'll be.

“Family don't end with blood, and that's what Dean does best. He makes everyone into family. I've seen him do it loads of times. Watching him pull Castiel in was like watching someone coax a foal sometimes, all blinkin' and skittishness and highly-strung nerves, but he did it easy, and he made it easy fer the rest of us to get to know the real Cas under all them fancy words and terrible trenchcoats.

“Today they made themselves family all official-like. But they've been my boys for years, and I'm damn proud of both of them. To Dean and Cas!”

Dean had lost the battle to not cry for a second time a while ago, and he was leaning on Cas and trying not to cry onto his tux when Bobby ducked down beside them both and wrapped them into a hug. “Idjits,” he said fondly. “Don't get snot on m'beard.” Cas laughed shakily and wiped Dean's face with his napkin.

“Thanks, Bobby,” Dean choked out in a hoarse whisper. “Means a lot.”

“It was nothin'. My pleasure. Now help me up, I'm too old fer this kneeling crap.”

Bottles of mead, Cain's Best Honey Wine, had appeared on all of the tables, and cheese platters and crackers were strategically placed so that everyone could nibble on them if they wanted. The servers came round with tea and coffee as well, for anyone who wasn't brave enough for the mead. Dean took a small amount of each of the cheeses and toyed with them for a while, too full to really tuck in but too stubborn not to at least taste each of them.

Castiel had a word with the head waiter, and then stood up for his speech. “Please keep eating, the cheeseboards will be out for a while yet. We might have slightly over-estimated the amount of food we needed,” he said wryly. “I'd like to reiterate what Dean said at the start of the meal and thank you all for coming here and sharing today with us. We'll be moving to the ballroom in half an hour or so, but this is the last speech you have to worry about.

“The first time I met Dean I was sure he'd saved my life. I had spent two days driving to Kansas with everything I owned in my car, and it had been making rattling noises for at least 500 miles. And then the sky started getting dark with one of those big storms coming across the plains.

“I was convinced I was going to aquaplane and crash and die within about five minutes of the rain starting. And I was a little afraid of tornadoes. I didn't know if it was tornado season or not, but I'd been awake for most of the preceding 48 hours and was surviving on caffeine tablets and energy drinks, so my thinking wasn't that clear.

“Then my car started smoking, although it took me a while to notice because of all the rain. So I jumped out of my car and started panicking about if I should stay with the car or not, if it was going to explode or not, and if it was going to destroy all of my worldly goods and leave me stranded for a tornado to blow me away to Oz, or more likely, drop me to my death.

“Then this big muscle car came up behind me, slowed down, and this really buff guy jumped out. And I realised I still had my Pride sticker on the back of my car window. So I was imagining being beaten up by this really muscly guy, blown up by my exploding car, swept away by a tornado, and dropped into a ditch by it, whereupon I would drown from all of the rain.

“I'm very good at catastrophising, in case you didn't know.” Some of the audience laughed at that, but most of them just smiled fondly.

“Of course, he fixed the Continental in seconds, using what I can only assume was some kind of magic, welcomed me to Kansas, and drove off into the storm before I even thought to ask him for his name. That's the kind of man Dean is: he stops to help strangers on the sides of roads, he brakes for cats and raccoons – I've seen him – and he's the most generous person I've ever known.” Dean rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed again.

“If I'd known I would marry the first man I met in Kansas, and that he would change my life for the better in a thousand different ways, I would have been a lot less apprehensive about the move. Coming here was the best thing I ever did, and I'm looking forward to the next stage of my life with my husband beside me. As most of you know, Dean and I are moving to Massachusetts for the fall semester; he's going to MIT to do some more magic with cars, and I'm going to lecture at Harvard. Kansas will always be dear to us both, though.

“Our thanks to everyone who made today so special for us, and we hope you enjoy the rest of the party. And enjoy the mead. The word “honeymoon” actually comes from honey-month, which was the first month after marriage when the couple were supposed to drink lots of mead. So this is where ours starts. Thank you all.” There was a round of applause as Cas sat back down, and the room filled with chatter as people started moving between tables and mingling again.

Dean took a minute to rest on Castiel's shoulder again, closing his eyes and blocking out the hum of chatter by playing some Zep in his head. There was still more of the night to go, more photo ops, another, crap, hundred and fifty people to greet and accept congratulations from. But Cas was right. This was the start of the honeymoon, the start of the rest of their lives together.

And that was pretty damn awesome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Champagne bottles all have different names, but I don't know what they are and neither do Cas and Dean, okay?
> 
> I was actually at a wedding with five courses like this once. And different wine with each course, and mead with the dessert one I think. We all ate so much we could barely move, it was great. And it turns out that nettle cheese is really tasty. Rich people are weird.
> 
> I cannot thank [wobblyheadeddollcaper](http://archiveofourown.org/users/wobblyheadeddollcaper) enough for the help they gave me with this chapter. It was a right pain in the arse to get through and would not have been done on time or anywhere near as well without their support. <3


	9. Epilogue - Another July

Breakfast was the hardest meal of the day, but dinner was usually the best. The timing had to be right though. Too late, and the kids were tired and grumpy. Too early, they woke up hungry halfway through the night. They always tried to have at least one of them home sharp after finishing at their colleges for the day. Took some doing sometimes, but it was worth it.

Dean was an expert at getting the timing right, even if he did say so himself, and Emily was halfway through her plate of carved veggies, shaped chicken pieces and handful of sweet potato fries. They had a big freezer full of meals that he pre-prepared at the weekends or when he had a few days off, although he always did the veggies fresh if he could manage. The puréed mush that he was carefully spoon-feeding Robbie was done the same way, tiny baggies of frozen blended food stuffed into the spaces in the freezer.

“Da!” Robbie complained whenever his mouth was empty. Dean hastily filled it with more chickeny goo. His son beamed at him and swallowed noisily, dribbling a little.

“Daddy, when is Kevin coming?” Emily asked through a mouthful of food. The kids definitely had his table manners. Cas was largely unimpressed with them.

“He should be here in fifteen minutes, sweetie,” Dean replied. Emily loved Kev with the fiery passion only a three-year-old could manage. Emily nodded and started counting to fifteen in a sing-song voice, looking expectantly at the door. Dean stifled a laugh. “When the big hand on the clock reaches the top, not when you count to fifteen.”

Emily pouted, but accepted it. She had his lips and eyes, with Cas's messy dark hair. “Daddy, why is Kevin coming?”

“Because Daddy and Papa are going out for a meal tonight, because it's our anniversary.” Dean persuaded Robbie to take another mouthful of purée, big blue eyes staring back at him curiously. Kid was growing fast, he needed the energy.

“Daddy, what's an ananivary?” Every time she asked a question she prefaced it with the name of the person she wanted to answer it. Every damn time. Even when he was the only person in the room.

“Well, you know how Daddy and Papa are married?” She nodded. She'd been a flower-girl at Jo and Charlie's wedding two months ago, so she understood marriage. “Today is the day we got married eight years ago, and we wanna celebrate it together. We do it every year.”

“I don't remember,” she said with a frown.

“You were pretty little last year. Not like now. You're much bigger now”

She nodded firmly, returning to finish her food with gusto. She paused again, fry in hand, and looked at him quizzically. “Daddy, what was your wedding like?”

“It was pretty great, sweetie. You wanna see some pictures after you finish your plate?” That would kill the remaining ten minutes before Kev's arrival. The sound of Cas leaving the shower floated down the stairs; he'd cut it fine today, leaving work late enough that he got stuck in traffic.

Emily shoved all of her remaining fries in her mouth. “Finiffed!” she beamed. Dean rolled his eyes but collected the plates and stacked them in the dishwasher.

“Ba!” Robbie remarked.

“Yeah, I'll show you too, don't worry,” Dean replied, getting the wedding album from its place high up on the shelf away from sticky fingers. He wet-wiped the kids before opening it, drying them all with a paper towel. Better be careful.

The album was a large one, mainly white but with green and blue ribbon decorating the outside. Dean was pretty sure it was the ribbon they had used in the wedding; it was the kind of thing Cas'd do, anyway. He sat on the couch and scooched Emily and Robbie close to him before opening the book.

“Pretty,” Emily remarked at the picture of him and Cas kissing under a tree.

Dean grinned at her. “Thank you, Emmy.” She gave him Cas's gummy grin in return.

“Da! Pa!” Robbie shouted gleefully. He loved seeing pictures and naming people in them, for some weird reason. Cas talked about object permanence and recognition skills; Dean thought the kid liked to hear the sound of his own voice. They were probably both right.

“Yeah, that's right Robbie, Daddy and Papa.” His praise only encouraged Robbie to keep doing it – rookie mistake, he knew better – and Emily started joining in.

“Daddy and Papa and Auntie Charlie and Uncle Balthy!” Dean sniggered at the last; Balthazar was horrified at being Uncle Balthy, but every time she saw him Emily clung to him like a tiny and enthusiastic octopus. Dean was pretty sure Charlie kept putting her up to it.

“Da Pa Ga!” Robbie was still on the money: Grandpa Bobby was standing in between Dean and Cas in this photo, looking proud but embarrassed. The gloriously inked poem Bobby had given them was on the opposite page.

“Daddy, what's that?” Emily pointed at it, small fingers carefully tracing the shapes but not touching the page. She was real careful around paper, thanks to both him and Cas. Cas because he loved books, and Dean because he hated mess. It worked out pretty well for them. She didn't give a crap about clothes or her own body, but she cared about not damaging books.

“It's Japanese. Grandpa Bobby did it for us. Those shapes are all words. It's a different kind of writing.”

“Oooooh,” she responded quietly, and Robbie echoed her. He loved it when he could mimic the noises people made. Dean had dropped an F-bomb a couple of weeks back and Robbie had spent two whole days chanting “Fuh! Fuh! Fuh!” and laughing. Fortunately the novelty had worn off before Cas had worked it out.

He kept turning the pages, smiling at the memories that were brought back. They still had their buttonholes on the shelf; roses made out of aluminium lasted a hell of a lot longer than the real ones did. A picture of their rings had Emily peering closely at his hand and comparing it to the picture.

“Auntie Jess! Daddy, who is the baby?”

“That's your cousin when she was two months old,” Dean replied. Olivia Honor Winchester-Moore had been on her best behaviour that day. Unlike now, when she was a menace with blonde bangs and permanently skinned knees.

“Daddy, was I as small as Honor when I was two months old?”

“You sure were. You were dinky.” Emily laughed uproariously at that. Dean wasn't sure what about the statement was so funny, but he also wasn't three, so some things were always gonna be a mystery to him.

Cas came out, wearing his sexiest shirt and still towelling his hair. “Pa!” Robbie exclaimed, reaching up to him. Cas grabbed him and sat down beside Dean, sitting Robbie on his lap. He gave a small smile at the wedding photos, his eyes doing the crinkling thing Dean still found adorable after, Jesus, nearly fourteen years together.

The page turned onto the Milton photos, Naomi looking proudly at all four of them and Hannah and Zeke laughing at their big brother.

Hannah had given them the best gift of anyone that day, including Bobby's frankly tear-jerking poetry and Naomi's exquisite food and wine: she had presented them with a barcode and a consent waiver so they could use her newly-frozen eggs as they saw fit. Eight years on and they had two beautiful kids, surrogated by the formidable Linda Tran. Dean got a little teary thinking about it and blinked up at the ceiling hurriedly.

Cas pressed a kiss to his cheek; Dean still swore blind he was a mind-reader. “We'll be speaking to Grandmama on Sunday,” Cas reminded Emmy. “You should tell her about looking at the pictures. I'm sure she'll have lots of stories she can tell you.”

“Yeah!” she cheered. She turned the page carefully and looked at the next photos, puzzled. “Papa, who are all of they?”

Dean bit his lip. She got really cross when the wrong person answered her questions, so this was all on Cas. His husband leaned in closer to him, comforting him silently. “Don't you remember Grandpa John, Emily?” Her face cleared and she pointed at Dean's father. He'd made it up to Cambridge a fair few times, more since the kids were born, although he was getting stiff enough now that it was hard for him to drive. Docs said the nerve damage wasn't getting worse, but arthritis had set in in the weaker joints.

Cas smiled at their daughter. “That's right. That lady there is Grandma Mary, she's Daddy's Mommy. You saw her last year when we went down to Kansas.” Emmy nodded doubtfully; she probably didn't remember. “And the tall man is Daddy's brother Sam.”

“Uncle Sammy...” she whispered. She'd heard stories of Dean and Sam as kids, of course, and there were some pictures of them when they were young around the place. “He doesn't come to visit.”

“No, darling, he doesn't,” Cas said softly. “He lives very far away and he's very busy.” He leaned over and kissed Dean's cheek again. Dean made a conscious effort to relax. “And in that picture, that's your Uncle Adam – he came over last summer – and his Mommy Kate.”

“Uncle Adam sent me the Batman lego,” Emily said definitively.

“Yeah, that's right,” Dean said, clearing his throat. “He said he was gonna come visit again in the Fall, won't that be nice?”

“Yes. I hope he brings me more legos.” Dean stifled a laugh at his daughter's mercenary streak.

The doorbell rang, heading off Cas's lecture about not valuing people for the things they could do for you – Dean knew the signs – and Emmy jumped up and ran to it, shouting “Kevinkevinkevin!” Dean followed her quickly. She hadn't quite managed to work out how to open the lock, but it was only a matter of time. He really needed to get that chain sorted out this weekend.

Kev came in and was nearly barrelled over with the force of Emily hurling herself at him. Dean winced in sympathy; she packed a hell of a punch. “Oof! Hey Emmy and Robbie, ready for some Kevin-time before bed?”

Emily nodded and started spinning around and in excitement while Robbie shrieked his excitement wordlessly, making Cas rub his ear. Dean grabbed their jackets and shoved his feet into his shoes. Quick exits were easier on everyone. He toed Cas's shoes out so that he could step into them with minimal fuss. Cas handed Robbie, clutching a sippy-cup full of milk, over to Kev with a smile.

“They've had dinner but not D-E-S-S-E-R-T, it's in the fridge, and they're pretty clean I think, no need to worry about baths,” Dean told Kev with a quick glance around the room. “We should be back by eleven at the latest.”

“I know the drill, don't worry,” Kev grinned. Emmy hung off his leg and bounced the trio around, singing something Dean was trying not to listen to. It was probably something Top-40. She really loved upbeat pop.

Disturbed by his sister, Robbie lost his grip on his cup and it fell to the floor. “Fuh!” Dean winced and tried too late to look innocent. At least the lid was still on.

“Dean. Belovèd. Did you teach our eleven-month-old to swear?” Cas asked dangerously.

Shit shit shit. Dean gave Kev a frantic smile and started dragging Cas out the door. “See you later, have a good night!” He made it halfway to the garage before Cas dug his heels in. “I'm really sorry babe, it just slipped out, and then he thought it was funny so he wouldn't stop saying it,” he babbled. If he'd fucked this evening up... Shit, this was his one guaranteed night to get laid til Halloween. Not that they didn't in between, but tonight was special.

It took him a little while to realise that Cas was laughing silently. “Your face was amazing, that was wonderful,” he gasped. He must've seen something in Dean's eyes that worried him because he sobered up real fast and put his arms around his waist. “It's not a problem, I swore on the phone to Gabriel last week while I was holding him. He doesn't know what he's saying. He just likes the noise.”

Dean breathed a shuddering sigh – it was possible he was more stressed that he'd realised – and relaxed into Cas's arms. “I was really worried the nursery would hate us,” he confessed. “If he taught it to the rest of the kids, shit, that would be awful.”

“It would be wonderful,” Cas corrected. “All those tiny voices chanting “Fuh!” - I don't know a single person who wouldn't laugh themselves sick, and neither do you.”

It was a pretty funny thought, really. Dean smiled as Cas backed him against the Impala, still warm from the day's sun, and kissed him deeply. “Let's go to dinner, Mr Milton,” he murmured, and Castiel shivered.

“After you, Mr Milton.”

Yeah, life was pretty damn good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're done. Hope you liked it!
> 
> Obligatory tumblr link is [here](http://knittedgauntlets.tumblr.com/). I always post self-promotion stuff there. And I'll eventually (not for a few weeks though, I need a break from this) write a moratorium on the fic, explaining why I made certain choices and talking about the stuff I struggled with. I'll link back here when it's done, if I remember. Edit: I remembered! I had a post-it note and everything. It's [here.](http://knittedgauntlets.tumblr.com/post/157376073082/fortunate-son)


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